Fallen
by MomentousNote
Summary: So... I've heard of this thing called a conscience, but if I had one I didn't listen to it. That was probably why I didn't have a problem with my friend being a murderous vampire with issues. If you got past his weird obsession with my fake sibling's doppelganger, he was fun to be around. And he was good at distracting me, which was great for, well, everyone. Damon/OC friendship
1. Author Notes

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Vampire Diaries, I'm just crazy about writing.**_

_**Whoever added Fallen to their communities, thank you so much! **_**_My thanks also goes to _**IWillBeDamned_ **for making the Fallen cover :D**_

_**I'm going to be using this for my little notes so yeah just skip this if you don't want to know or don't care about what's going on.**_

_**This story is rated M for possibly dark content, not sex. Okay? Okay.**_

**_As of 4/27, I have officially deleted the original version of Fallen and begun placing the updated chapters. It was too confusing the other way, so to my original readers, I'm sorry! To new people: Welcome :D_**

**_Oh, a little note: This was originally supposed to be a Damon/OC fanfiction, but recently I've been thinking more about that and... I don't know. Please don't be disappointed if this turns out different than expected. It'll still be good, I promise!_**

**_7/10- I uploaded this story onto Wattpad :)_**

_**\- Sarah**_


	2. Of Victims and Killers

_**Okay, so here's the revised version of chapter 1. Gwen's a bit different (darker), but this is the original character I'd envisioned for her. Personally I think this is much better than the first chapter 1, but let me know :D**_

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Of Victims and Killers**

It was said that dreams were windows into the unconscious mind, into the soul. There were opinions that dreams were manifestations of deepest desires, anxieties, things linked to what we didn't even know we felt. They could be regular, run of the mill, they mean nothing, dreams. Something to keep the mind busy during sleep. Nightmares were only dreams gone wrong. But whatever was said, dreams could also be that link to our deepest, most repressed emotions. Long forgotten memories could've seeped into your sleep, and one day you realise, that really happened. The nightmare you had wasn't a terrible dream; it'd really happened.

I had a lot of dreams. I didn't like to sleep because of it.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the reason why.

The question was, how bad did something have to be that you completely blocked the memory from yourself? What did it mean when you started to unwittingly remember?

* * *

_Sobbing. _

_ Desperate pleas echoed off the walls of the crumbling house. Loud screams faded into nothing, but the sounds reverberated through a gruesome melody. A woman with red hair laid dead on the ash covered floor. Eyes that had once been a lively green were now glassy, emotionless. Her arm was bent beneath her, a broken twig, elbow sticking out, while the other splayed carelessly to the side. Her skin was chalk white, worsened by the gash on her forehead that had stopped bleeding long ago. _

_It'd been the only way. The only way… _

_ A sandy brown haired man lay next to her. Silent tears slipped from his hazel eyes and down his cheeks, sorrow for the woman. The wound in his gut still bled, and he could feel his life draining away a final time. _

_He'd convinced himself this was the best way for things to go down._

_ The only way._

_ There hadn't been a thought for the little girl that hid and witnessed it all. _

A loud bang resounded through the air.

The covers were constricting my breathing when I awoke. Attempting to shoot upwards only served to further aid the black and purple covers cocooning me. It rendered it all useless. I blindly struggled until I came to my senses. The idiot I was, it took me awhile to finally figure out to carefully detangle myself from the rat's nest.

_Stupid dream things,_ I scorned, rubbing my face as I reminded myself that the dreams were dreams and the banging I heard when I was waking up was in my head. As usual, I was left feeling deprived of sleep, though it wouldn't last long. The sensation never did, and after this I found it astonishingly easy to stay awake for days on end.

Plus, it was nice for me. Having nightmares through every sleeping hour wasn't the most pleasant experience in the world.

I needed nice things.

Living with fake family wasn't nice. My fake parents were dead, having drowned in a one- car accident. In my mind, that'd been one of the best days of my life, the worst for others. Poetic justice, I called it; a tragedy, the others wept. Now I lived with two 'siblings' that had grief issues and an 'aunt' that had been thrust into the world of parenting without a guide. To say the least, Jenna could've been doing a whole lot worse.

The resemblance between me and Elena and Jeremy Gilbert was non-existent. They were my adoptive siblings, whom I'd lived with since I was 5. As far as I was concerned, I had stolen _their _parents' surname and attached it to the end of my name- for official purposes. Otherwise, I was just Gwen. I was living in their house on loan, because they'd been _gracious_ enough to open their doors to me. I could never bring myself to think of them as real family. They weren't mum or dad or sister or brother or aunt and never would be. I lived with strangers, people that I floated around or didn't exist well with.

They'd probably get rid of me if they could. I suspected that Elena and Jenna were beyond done with my antics. Jeremy didn't care one way or the other because he was generally wasted these days, which was fine by me. If he wanted to destroy his life, then that was his choice. He was the only one that didn't criticise me 24/7 for being a 'terrible' person, and that was only because I didn't nag him about his drug habits. Everyone had different grieving methods. I preferred his ways over Elena's, who had taken over as a dictator that was determined to hold us all together as a perfect family. A bloody poster- perfect family.

Besides, watching the lectures Jeremy got was sometimes funny. It was like watching a cheesy, melodramatic TV scene take place. Any second, I'd expect 'healing' music to start playing out of nowhere, and I had no problems with voicing this opinion.

Which was usually why I got banned from the room when Elena and/or Jenna wanted to talk to Jeremy. They didn't appreciate my twisted humour or the fact that I'd burst into muffled snickers every few seconds or how I threw in my (unwanted) commentary. My two cents was so unappreciated; even when I was serious and trying to help (this not being a common occurrence), my words flew right past them, a speeding bullet that they couldn't catch.

I wasn't a completely horrible person… depending on who you asked. Sure I could be mean and would rather cause havoc over fixing things, but I had morals. Some lines, you didn't cross. I just had yet to become aware of those lines and tread more carefully about them.

But I was in no hurry to discover the moral compass that made people so sensitive.

Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I slipped out of bed. Due to all the glow in the dark items in my room, turning on a light wasn't required. A yellowish light was casted upon everything visible, making it easy to move about. Lucky for me, I didn't have to bother with sneaking around, since I never seemed to make a surplus of noise. My treads were light, quiet, and always had been. It was a partially honed gift, skilled purely out of self-preservation.

Sighing, I decided I might as well get dressed since school was in a couple hours. I didn't want to have to come back and risk running into any of my 'family' members. I put on the first shirt I saw (one with the Cheshire cat from Alice and Wonderland), shorts the same shade of purple, and my pair of tennis shoes, ones that were worn and a simple black. I wanted a leather jacket, but I had yet a person to steal (I totally meant borrow) one from, so I grabbed a hoodie.

Squatting, I reached underneath my bed and pulled up a loose floor panel to get a bottle of bourbon. Since this was my last one, I'd have to go out and get more. I didn't have drinking issues like Jeremy. I could stop whenever I wanted to since alcohol didn't affect me. I was one of those people that was immune to its effects. Not even the slightest buzz had ever hit me. More than once I'd experimented with how much I could drink, and I had yet to discover my boundaries. I could probably drink myself to death and I wouldn't realise until it was too late. By then I'd just drift… drift away into nothingness.

What a dreadfully dull way to go.

I wanted to go out with a bang.

I tucked the bottle beneath my arm and swung the window of my bedroom open. A cool breeze drifted across my pale face, curling the edges of my pure white hair- and yes, it was natural. The icy blue streaks in it, however, were dyed. Like, no one was born with blue hair; that was _weird. _

White hair was normal. Obviously.

I tossed a loose strand of my hair over my shoulder, only to have it fall back into the same place a second later. It was a perpetual battle between me and my mid-back length hair. As much and as frequently as it got in the way, I would never cut it short. I loved it no matter what. Puffing my cheeks out in annoyance, I took my foot off of the window sill and backtracked a couple of steps to grab a hair band. Sitting the bottle down, I expertly braided my hair before resuming my task: sneaking out of the house.

Hopping onto the roof, I travelled to the end and jumped off. After many years of doing the same routine, I barely felt the impact of landing anymore. Besides, I landed so softly that there was rarely anything to feel.

I supposed the constant exercise and my agility paid off in the long run.

The crisp September wind picked up, attempting to help the escape of hair from its braid. Tilting my head up, I smirked at the dark sky, full of mirth. The mass of wispy, grey clouds that would eventually disappear with the rise of the sun hung low in the air. I imagined them becoming a fog, so close to the ground that I could run my fingers through them and feel their cold contents. But more than that, I wished for rain. It'd been too long since Mystic Falls had a good old-fashioned storm. Skies had been suspiciously clear since the Gilberts' unexpected car wreck, like nature was compensating for taking two 'wonderful' lives.

I wanted rain and thunder and lightning, not this calm weather. I wanted the chaos, the personification of how crazy life really was. Not these boring, repetitive, clear days. Storms had an element of surprise; they were unpredictable and anything could happen. There was a chance for danger in them, and you were at their mercy.

My stomach kicked a little, feeling like a tightly wound coil. Watching the sky, I could almost hear a crack of booming thunder; I nearly sensed the frigid air that accompanied storms. I imagined that at any time soon, the clouds would open up and water would pelt upon the earth.

But, like I said, it was pure imagination. It wasn't about to rain; I wasn't about to feel cool drops upon my face. That wasn't real. The current weather had no intention of giving me what I wanted.

The previously appealing mounting sensation in my gut disappeared, having sputtered out as fast as it came.

Disappointment at something I couldn't place washed over me. Burying it deep, I began to make my way to the woods. I could figure things out there, in my safe haven. The forest surrounding Mystic Falls was my hiding place, my own playground where only those closest to me could find me. And because I had no close friends, no one could find me. I tended to be ignored in the first place, making myself part of the background, where I watched without being noticed. I was so good at it that people forgot I was there in the first place. I lived for the looks of shock on their faces when I spoke up. It was odd, because once anyone knew I was there, I always found them glancing my way. As if I was something to look at, like I demanded they pay attention to me.

I found the whole situation paradoxical, because I tripped a whole lot, and you wouldn't see me as a traditional model example for spy work. I was constantly moving about. Nodding my head to music only I heard, eyes darting about, distracted by the smallest details, messing with my hair or my shirt, something. I had to be the most obvious person in the room. Yet people overlooked me all the time, this being the reason I was privy to secrets. I had a knack for learning things- stumbling upon them constantly. And if I didn't already know it, you could bet I'd find out.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't bitter about being ignored; I rather enjoyed having dirt on people should I ever require blackmailing someone. But it made me wonder.

Inevitably, my thoughts found their way back to the dream I'd had. They were a recurrent nightmare, that man and woman. They were always there, in that house. Sometimes they were alive, sometimes the woman was dead, sometimes they were both dead. Sometimes the ranch-style home looked newly built and sometimes it was in ruins. What didn't change was the uneasiness it struck in me. Every time, I felt with refreshed certainty that there was something very wrong. I was missing something. A very large chunk of memory. It all felt like something I should know, and I didn't. I didn't know at all.

A shudder passed through me, and I opened my bourbon, enjoying the scorching trail it left in its wake.

I remembered when I was 5, just months after the Gilberts had taken me in, that I would wake up screaming every night I went to sleep. Needless to say, that routine had gotten old quick. I was disrupting everyone's slumber. Poor 4 year old Jeremy needed to be able to sleep, because when I shrieked he'd jerk awake wailing. He took far too long to calm again, and then Grayson would have to go to work tired and Elena would be cranky and Miranda would be stretched in too many directions. I had to get it under control, they told me.

In this my inconsistent sleeping schedule was born. I learned how to live in constant sleepiness, until it was no longer a problem. The habit had not gone away, either, and some days I went so long without sleep that I'd drop mid-sentence only to wake up a minute later extra hyper.

But by the time I had developed this habit, it was too late and the damage had been done. And, to add to it, I had to find some way to keep myself entertained. I had to do _something,_ leading to the tarnishing of the Gilbert family name. No longer were they the perfect Founding Family Council members. They were still well respected and revered, but there was a chip in their shoulders. That peculiar girl, Gwen. In my 16- almost 17, mind you- years, I'd managed to cause mischief in a very public way at every Founding Family event. Or, more appropriately, every event in Mystic Falls. This went so far that Mrs. Lockwood- the woman hated me with a passion- attempted to ban me from attending.

That night, she found maggots crawling around in her food. To my knowledge, I hadn't partaken in any scheme of the sort. After all, why would I, a 7 year old, go to all that trouble just to stay on an attendance list for these stupid events? Sure, I'd been mildly bothered by her, but it wasn't enough to make me want to do anything particularly special to torment her. Try as I might've to tell her this, she'd refused to believe me, and called Miranda and Grayson. They'd been rightfully sceptical, to the point that Mrs. Lockwood showed them her food. Except there were no maggots. It was just regular steak and regular mashed potatoes. The Gilberts had blamed this incident on Carol drinking 3 glasses too much and any talk of my being banned vanished.

But Mrs. Lockwood, _bless her soul_, couldn't catch a break. Birds picked her out of the crowd, doing their business around her. She had a few to many incidents of swearing there was a burglar in their house, when nothing was ever found. A rat chewed through her shoes. Her car wouldn't start, then the breaks wouldn't work until the very last second. She could've sworn her skin had aged from 30 to 90 (this claim coming after a night of drinking).

And, somehow, this was all my fault. Somehow, I had done all of it. I was targeting her and she despised me for it. Even now she still scrutinised me with eagle eyes, waiting to catch me in the act.

The only thing I know I had a part in was the incident with Tyler. That hadn't been funny at all. It was also the day the unfortunate events happening to Carol stopped.

… Maybe I had caused her troubles.

In that case, she had good reason not to like me- though I was nothing but pleasant to her. Because I was pleasant to everyone. _Definitely._

But she wasn't the only one to be caught in a bad situation. Everyone who's ever met me is aware of the weird things that happen around me. When we were 9, Elena and I got into a fight and an hour later, she'd fallen down the last couple of steps of the stairs and broken her wrist. I hadn't been near here, and she'd still accused me of doing it and her parents took her side. Even if I'd done it, it hadn't been on purpose. So what if maybe I'd felt I wanted to hurt them. That didn't mean I'd carry it out. They were just freak accidents. Coincidences.

_There's no such thing as coincidences, _my mind nagged. _It's all you._

To drown out the words, I took another drink.

This turn in my thoughts led me to the beginnings of that event, the one with Tyler. I never wanted to remember, and I did what I could to stay away from it. It wasn't worth thinking about, wasting time over. It was stupid. It was behind me, in the past. There was no changing what had happened, and sometimes, I found that I couldn't care less about what went down. Other times, the guilt was so loud that I couldn't handle it. That memory, I concluded after an especially bad meltdown, was best to be left untouched for a while.

Without it, I was the person I'd always be. I was the fun one, the cruel one, the careless one, the flawed one. Nothing remotely bloody sad and depressing. No one else needed to know me except myself. No one wanted to know me, so there was nothing to tell. In Elena speak, I needed therapy like Jeremy. Everyone required therapy! And she thought she understood my feelings, thought she could have a say in what I should do when she didn't know me. She lived with me, and she didn't even know my favourite colour. But somehow, she 'understood' that my destructive behaviour was just a side effect from the turmoil of unresolved emotion.

Yeah, no thanks Dr. Phil. Stop trying to fix me. I don't need fixing. And don't act so mature. You're only 4 months older than me and you're being a control freak. Just calm down. Maybe try some of Jeremy's pot. Pat yourself on the back once in a while because Jeremy hasn't OD'd on drugs yet. Try to be genuinely happy with yourself at least once a day. Fix yourself, not me. I'm not the one with problems here.

This was probably why I didn't have any friends.

_Crunch._

The distant sound of dead leaves being crushed beneath someone's feet snapped me out of my thoughts. Despite him or her being a good 3 or so kilometres from me, I could hear their movements, a quirk in my life. My hearing was exceptional, like my sight. I was surprised I hadn't gone deaf yet from regular noises sounding like explosions.

Regardless, I could sense the new addition. It wasn't an animal, nor human. I had no clue how I could tell. It was a feeling I'd learned to trust, and this person didn't feel human. I couldn't explain how crazy it sounded, but it was sane for me. It'd become something I'd become used to, enough that I felt the shift. The new presence gave my heart a lurch. I was anticipating this new arrival with simmering excitement that I hadn't felt in… never. Supernatural things would exist! It could be an explanation for my strange life.

For now, I would let the person be. Soon enough, I'd meet this mystery man and learn the mysteries of life.

I laughed at my own dumb joke, taking a sip of my bourbon.

In just 3 hours, school would start and I would be a spectacular junior at Mystic Falls High. Last night, Jenna made me promise to get a good night's sleep. Clearly, I'd already broken that promise with little thought. She'd also made me promise to try not to cause any trouble on our first day back. It was a new year, she said, and I could remake myself into whoever I wanted to be. Translation: Reinvent yourself into a good person. That plan failed the minute I entered high school. There was no way I was changing into a brooder like Elena, not when I was such a fun loving, troublemaker. Besides, I didn't like school in the first place, so why waste energy being a goody two-shoes? My grades were magnificent if you just looked at test scores. Class grades… not so much, but that was only because they were so boring. It wasn't my fault that the teachers didn't hold my attention or get along with me.

Teachers thought I was a bad student, but they wouldn't hold me back because I passed everything required with flying colours and they didn't want to deal with me any longer. Sometimes, I noticed discrepancies in my attendance records. Specifically being marked present when I wasn't there.

_Ah, those were the good days,_ I reflected with a drink. The teachers unknowingly helped me cover my tracks. Good times.

Abruptly, I chose to stop moving, liking where I was. I settled against a large oak tree near one of the streams, resting my not tired body. Tuning my ears, I carefully listened past the noise of insect life- to the light footfalls of mystery man. Even with my supernatural hearing, I could sparsely hear his tread falls. He was getting closer, and we'd be meeting soon. What would he be like? I hoped it was someone fun, not like everyone in this town. There needed to be some excitement. Things needed to change.

In 3… I wondered how it was already 5 am.

2… I briefly mulled over my nightmare again.

1… Oh, there he was, breaking through the tree line.

I was right. He was a male. He towered over me, a smirk on his face. Mmm. I smirked back at him, meeting his silent challenge. If he was on the hunt and wanted me to be afraid, I wasn't. He'd have to go elsewhere.

Without giving anything away, I glanced him over. His black hair had the look that he'd just rolled out of bed, short strands messily sitting atop his head. His eyes were a gorgeous blue, the intense kind that drew you in. When he moved, you could see his muscles through the fabric of his black shirt. He was handsome, beautiful even, but so were a lot of others, and they didn't catch my attention. He was no different.

Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, I rested my head back against the tree trunk and watched him watch me, grinning inwardly when I saw his little frown. No doubt he was wondering who I was, what kind of person had white hair and purple eyes. Yes, purple. Not a dark blue that looked purple, but actual purple the shade of lilac. It was just the way I was born, and another reason that it was strange how I could blend in easily. Apart from that, I wasn't terrible to look at, I guess. I considered myself a little far on the skinny side, and not in a good way. I'd always been that way, slender and tall. Half the time I expected people to view me as a walking skeleton- maybe that was extreme, but all the same, it was what I expected.

As the stranger inched closer, I picked this moment to break the tense silence by taking a drink of my alcohol and announcing, "I can see it now: 16 Year Old Girl Found Dead in Woods, Murdered by Mysterious Killer." I splayed my arms out dramatically for emphasis.

The maybe 22 or 23 year old man silently sat down next to me with the grace of a cat, making sure our shoulders touched. I waited for one of those tingles that shot to your stomach that I read about in books to happen when the character meets 'the One', but it didn't. What did happen was the heat that radiated from him warmed me to the bone, reminding me of how cold I was.

And… he wore a leather jacket! This was my bloody chance. I could get the jacket I wanted!

Scheming, I brought my bottle to my lips.

Looking sideways at me, he stated, "Nice accent."

_Nice accent._ Seriously? Nice accent? That's all I got? I deserved more than a 'nice accent.' Let's talk about my inexplicable British accent (it's wonderful, of course) and not how hilarious I am. Rude, guy. Rude.

I rolled my eyes at him. "It doesn't suit your fancy?" I slipped into an American accent, "How about this? Oh! Oh! Wait, I don't care." The drink was at my lips again, sculling my throat, warming my stomach with pins and needles.

He squinted at my bottle, ignoring my previous comments. "Is that bourbon? Aren't you a little young for that?"

I gave him a flat stare and took an extra-long gulp. "Almost 17, thank you very much. Aren't you supposed to mind your own business?" I retorted.

His blue eyes lit up in amusement. "How'd you get it?"

Oh-ho-ho! He wanted my bourbon. No.

"Why would I tell you? You're going to steal my supply," I said, half joking.

"That I do. It is my favourite, after all." He made a grab for the bottle, his fingers skimming my hand as I pulled it away from his reach and to me. Defeated, ridiculously beautiful guy caught my eyes with his. "You should give me the bottle," he suggested, and I eyed his pupils, seeing them doing some weird dilating thing.

Annoyance raced through me. The nerve of him! What did he think he was going to get, going about ordering people around like that? I inhaled deeply and repeatedly, reeling in my irritation, because I was curious about him. Otherwise I'd deck him.

"So, I'm going to pretend you didn't say that so that we can go on enjoying this ungodly hour together," I said loftily. "No one really likes this type of whiskey, something about it being too bitter, blah, blah, blah. They just don't have taste buds. And if you want a drink, you should ask, not demand and tell me your name. Just saying."

He was staring at me with shell shocked eyes roving over me, as if I'd done something incredible and impossible. What was he checking me for?

Weirdo.

"Damon Salvatore," he muttered.

Nice name. A name that rang a bell.

I passed him the bottle in approval.

That name… What were the odds?

"You don't, by chance, have a brother named Stefan, do you?" I tested.

Damon tensed up instantly. "Why?" he very nearly growled, shoving the bourbon back into my hands.

I shrugged, trying not to set him any more on edge. "A wild guess, I suppose. Your name is the same as the original Salvatore brothers from 1864, so I jumped to conclusions. Your parents must be huge history buffs."

I mean really. Why else would I ask? It wasn't that much of a huge inference, either. At least I didn't think so. Salvatore, to my knowledge, wasn't that common of a last name and you only met so many Damons.

Why was Damon so suspicious about it?

Unless… There was something off about him. The sense that he wasn't human. I wondered. The Gilberts always had a thing for telling campfire horror stories about vampires. All about the original Gilberts from 1864. Stories about the Salvatores and Katherine Pierce and a woman named Pearl. They were the crazy writings of Johnathon Gilbert, and Miranda and Grayson would tell them to Elena and Jeremy for fun. I doubted they remembered those stories now, considering they were fairly deep in sleep world when they were told.

But I remembered. And that would make the Damon before me vampire.

My gut told me I was right.

That meant that odd eye thing was Damon's attempt at compelling me. All humans could be compelled, is what Miranda and Grayson had said.

Why hadn't it worked on me?

Damon released a tiny laugh. "Yeah, they were," he lied. No they weren't. They were vampire hating, slave owning townies.

"Were?" I asked, feigning cluelessness.

"They died a very long time ago," he said softly, lost in memory. That was the truth.

"Ah. That sucks. I live with an adoptive family. Their parents died a couple months ago."

"You don't sound very sad about it."

I shrugged, handing the drink back to him. "I wasn't their biggest fan."

Ha, that was kind of funny, because they died in the summer and summer time is hot, so you'd need a fan… ha…

"What about your real parents?" he inquired. I determined that he was a person I could tolerate. He didn't pry, and that immediately got him on my good side.

I answered, "I'd have to know who they are to be able to tell you anything. I think they're dead."

It wasn't that I thought this because I couldn't handle thinking they hadn't wanted me, it was because of how Miranda had found me. According to her, I'd been wandering around crying and there'd been blood on me. Blood that hadn't been my own. Based on that, I safely concluded that they were gone. I used to think about it a lot, and still my mind skipped over to the whereabouts of my parents on occasion, but I no longer cared much. Light curiosity was the only thing that touched me in terms of them.

"You're very odd," Damon bluntly announced.

Irritation brushed me. _You're strange. You're weird. You're a freak. Why aren't you normal? Why aren't you sad? Don't you take anything seriously? _

I never got a positive review of my character.

"Do you, a stranger, want me to express grief? Do you want to see me, also a stranger, burst into tears for people I don't like? I didn't much care for the Gilberts, and I'm not going to waste time feeling sad for them or for biological parents I don't know. Anyway, the past is the past. Is there a problem with that, _Damon_?" I aggressively questioned.

He was a stranger anyway. Whether or not he saw hints of my inner self didn't matter because he'd be gone. I didn't have to worry about Damon spreading word on how 'crazy' I was; he had no one to tell in Mystic Falls. I didn't have to deal with him after this, because he'd leave soon enough. Only the people stuck in Mystic Falls stayed in Mystic Falls. Everyone here had some sort of attachment, unless you were an idiot. Those were the people that stayed here: the idiots and the trapped. And they _all_ talked. They talked about my instability, they tried to discern fact from rumour, and failed to do so properly.

Visitors, however, I didn't have to listen to around the clock. I didn't have to live with them, and boy- boy, did living with the citizens of Mystic Falls grate on my nerves. I tired of them constantly, and they restricted what I could do. Why would I want to have to deal with them- what with their moral compasses- judging my questionable moves? That was such a hassle. I'd prefer to stay out of all that drama. If I got into that, the next thing I knew I'd have to deal with the repercussions of fantasies carried out.

No thank you.

Now visitors (who were far and between), were a different story. They were new and fun to mess with. It'd take me longer to tire of them. Damon the vampire would be fun for the mean time. Until he left, I had the opportunity to do whatever I wanted. I could be as wild as I wanted, and their opinion, like everyone else's, didn't matter. They'd _have_ to put up with it. I was one weird girl out of a small town full of nice people. It was a tiny sacrifice, and I was the one who benefited where they didn't know they were losing.

Oh, how I loved strangers.

And the vampire stranger before me would be loads of fun. That's what I was excited for, what I looked forward to.

_Fun._

I flashed a grin at Damon, the temporary pin pricks of annoyance fleeing from my mood. Giddiness consumed me. Damon was a vampire! I could just imagine Grayson and Miranda rolling in their graves. They might just return to haunt me as ghosts, forever cursing me for my 'mistakes'. If they could, I was sure they'd be screaming at me for sure, telling me how stupid I was being. How I was never going to make it anywhere because I was foolish.

To keep myself from giggling madly, I inhaled more bourbon.

I wasn't aware of Damon ever answering my demanding question. If he had, I'd been in another world when it happened, not paying attention. That was another paradox in my personality. Most of the time, I was sharp as a tack, and then there were times like these, where I completely zoned out. I'd get lost in my thoughts, but never when it mattered.

Unsure, I decided to drop a new topic. "You're back in town?"

Damon stiffened again. Oooh; stranger was touchy! "How'd you guess that?" he asked, tone guarded. He certainly didn't trust. I didn't either.

Hey! Vampire stranger and I shared a common trait.

Great.

My eyes flitted to Damon, and I passed him my half empty bottle. He took it, as he should. Approving, I explained, "This is a small town. Unfortunately, that means everyone knows everyone, and I haven't seen you around once. That would make you either a visitor, returnee, or newly moved. But, you can navigate these woods, meaning you couldn't possibly be a foreigner. They'd probably be found dead because they got lost." I snickered morbidly, amused by the trail my mind led me down.

"Someone's exceptionally observant," Damon noted. "If you find out any of my other secrets, I might have to kill you."

Like the fact that you're a vampire? HA! The joke's on him.

Straight faced, I said, "Might? I thought that's why you're here. What else do people do in the forest these days?"

Damon faced me, a serious look matching mine on his face. "You're absolutely right." He glanced around and dropped his voice to a stage whisper, "I'm in the murderer-for-hire business."

I gasped, "You do it for money? I'd do it for free!"

Scandalous!

After a few seconds of intense staring, Damon shook his head and laughed at me. "What's your name?" he asked, like it'd just occurred to him that he didn't know it.

"Normally, I don't give my names to strangers that I meet in the dead of night-" that was a total lie—"but I've decided you're not going to kill me. I'm Gwen."

Wisely, Damon chose not to question my intuition. "I don't get a last name?"

"What? So you can stalk me?" I snorted, taking a drink from the bottle between us. "I live with fake family, remember? I don't use their last name. But if you must know, theirs is Gilbert. I don't think Gwen Gilbert has a very nice ring to it, do you?"

"Gilbert, huh? You're part of a founding family?"

At least he didn't try to tack on that lie about history nut parents.

Deeeeeaaaaaddd giveaway!

Anyone who'd ever lived in Mystic Falls knows about the Founder's Council.

"I wouldn't consider myself a 'part' of the family, but for all appearances, I guess so. The Founding Council still has those stupid pot lucks where everyone brings chili. I know the members only have that so that they can gossip about the 'supernatural creatures' lurking around," I rolled my eyes and laughed dismissively. "They're idiots. As if there's such a thing as vampires."

Yes, sell the point. Damon would think I was a ditzy human and I could safely mess with him, dropping stupid hints about his vampirism.

"They never change."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence. It was nice; I wasn't ignoring infuriating peoples' presences and Damon wasn't watching me like a hawk. Here, we were simply companions that met by chance. This was the closest I'd probably ever get at having a friend.

Of course, I had to ruin the air. I'd never been adept at being still for prolonged periods of time, as mentioned be. I shifted, and my arm brushed against Damon's.

Against his leather jacket.

"Can I have your jacket?" I blurted out.

His lip curled into a bemused smirk. "No."

"Why not, Damey?"

"Damey?"

I blinked at him. I hadn't meant to say Damey. Who would want to be called Damey?

… Just go with the flow.

"It's your nickname now."

Nickname?! What kind of flow was I on?!

Damon scratched his head, drinking more of my bourbon. "I've heard worse."

…

"Can I have it now?"

"No, Gwen."

"Then you can't have any of my bourbon." Quick as light, I snatched my bottle away. It felt too light. I shook it around, looked inside. "You drank all my bourbon," I pouted.

The vampire beside me snickered.

Rude.

I pointed an accusing finger at him. "You, sir, owe me alcohol. Or your jacket."

"It's covered in the blood of virgin sacrifices," he immediately replied.

Laughter had me clutching my sides. Such a deadpan! Oh, he was fun. He was very fun.

"I like you!" I announced.

"Gee, I feel so honoured."

I bumped shoulders with him, smiling. "You'd better."

Because I didn't like anyone.

Slightly unnerved, I fixed my eyes on the sunrise, trailing the orange and pink rays that painted the sky, ignoring the unreadable look Damon was pinning me with.

Wait. Rising sun? What time was it?

"Bloody crumpets!" I jumped up, startling the vampire in the process.

I always went to the first school day of the year. I wasn't going to break that tradition for a stranger! The teachers needed to know that their worst student was still attending!

I was about to start running when I recalled Damon, and I temporarily forgot my panic. Turning to him, I explained, "Sorry, I've to go. Today's the first day of school. If I miss, it's on _you_. Then you'll owe me double the bourbon."

"See you later, Winnie," he said.

Winnie. I grinned at Damon. "I like it," I told him, despite the nervous churning in my stomach that exploded for some reason at the idea that he'd actually given me a nickname.

And then I was rushing away, back to where I'd come from.

* * *

Because of my mad dash to get to school, I wasn't late. In fact, I got there at the exact moment a new student was walking towards the Mystic Falls High School front steps. Well. The students would be talking about him for the entire week. He was fresh meat, double the points if he was hot. Girls would be all over him in no time, buzzing about him to learn all of his secrets. We fell into step beside each other and I just had to introduce myself because I was nice like that.

I spoke up. "You're new here."

The male jerked his head to the side to stare at me. He had shades on, but I could see the tiniest hint of green behind the tinted lenses. His hair was a short, not-quite-spiky chestnut brown. There was something about him that I couldn't put my finger on.

It would come to me eventually.

Waiting for him to respond, I came to the conclusion that I didn't like him very much. His presence was depressing and broody; guilt practically radiated off of him.

He and Elena would make an excellent pair.

My grin widened, spurring the new guy to answer, "Um, yeah." He sounded distracted, or like he didn't want to talk to me. I couldn't decide.

But it was no matter, because I'd keep bothering him until I bored.

"I'm Gwen," I said, giving him a wave. Even when it was the polite thing to do, I wasn't the biggest hand shaker. I held no love for any sort of bodily contact.

"Stefan Salvatore."

OH! That's why he looked familiar! He and Damon were brothers, so they resembled each other. I could see a bit of Damon in Stefan. The way Stefan crinkled his brow was nearly identical to the intense expression Damon had gotten earlier. From the way Stefan already came off as constantly grim, I assumed that the older brother had gotten it from the younger. I doubted Damon was even conscious of the way he copied his brother's look.

If my memory served me right, Damon and Stefan were estranged. Miranda and Grayson had rarely spoken of them without a third person: Katherine. Katherine Pierce, their sire. The Salvatore brothers had fallen in love with the same woman, and she'd ended up pitting them against each other and then, to top it off, instead of choosing one, she turned them both. Even though they'd hated the vampires, Miranda and Grayson admitted that was a 'sucky' thing to happen to any person. That was where the stories generally ended, with Damon and Stefan being turned. I don't think they knew any more than that.

Now, I was never supposed to hear any of these stories, but I had magnificent hearing.

"Nice to meet you, Steffy," I said casually, not missing a beat.

Damey and Steffy.

HA!

"What brings you to Mystic Falls?" As I continued talking, Stefan looked put out. I repressed my urge to laugh at him as he mouthed 'Steffy'.

But to his credit, he pushed forward with a good cover. "I needed a change and this seemed like a good place to start over."

I wouldn't call it a good place to start over. You've just returned to your childhood home and it's haunted with memories! Why would he want to come back? Why did Damon want to come back?

Damon was probably tailing his little brother, keeping tabs on him. How sweet!

Testing the waters, I asked, "Got any siblings?"

Because I wasn't going to tell him that I knew Damon.

"One," he replied, tone tight. Touchy for him, too, I see.

I was highly tempted to further push the subject. I'd never been good at resisting doing what I wanted.

"He or she?"

"He."

"What's he like? Is he sulky like you?"

Stefan shot me an odd look. I bet he was wondering what kind of person asked that kind of question, but it was only me, because I had no restraints. Or filter.

"I'd say he's my opposite now."

Yeah, he's fun and you're not.

"So your brother is fun? Where is he? I'd love to meet him!" I inwardly cackled, thriving off of the expressions flashing across Stefan's face.

"With all do respect, Gwen, I'd rather not talk about my brother."

Stefan no. Don't do that. You're too polite for your own good.

I held my hands up in surrender. "Oh okay. Well I live with this girl named Elena who you'd get along with splendidly."

"Your sister?"

"Nope!" I responded pleasantly, popping the 'p'.

"But you said you lived with her."

"I do. We're like flat mates, you know? Except we're not friends and we don't talk a lot to each other. We just,-" I tangled my fingers together "- coexist."

I released a bubbly laugh and shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket.

"Why don't you talk?" Stefan asked. Like he genuinely cared. What kind of vampire was he? He didn't sound like he had the nerve to munch on real human people. He sounded soft and was too broody anyway. Grinning at him, I imagined him bursting into tears after feeding. And he had no idea why I was so amused, making it 10 times funnier.

"She's so booorrrrinnng! She's the fun Nazi. Yeah, I like that. Fun Nazi Elena. That's why you two would get along; you're both so _serious._ I just met you and you're already making me feel like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. How are the rest of us carefree kids supposed to compare to that?"

I didn't want to be like that, of course. That wasn't fun or distracting. To spend all your time feeling guilty and being morose was sad. It was self-torture. If I would choose any form of self-torture, it'd be the self-destructive path.

In my pocket, my fingers clenched around a slip of paper that hadn't been there before. Frowning, I pulled it out and stared at unfamiliar numbers. _Damon_. Taking out my phone, I distractedly told Stefan, "Hey, I'll catch up with you later. I've to do something." Make a call. Talk to your older brother. The usual business, no biggie.

Stefan nodded, relief evident as his body relaxed from the tense position it'd been in, and continued into school. Oh, I was far from done with him. I waited until I was sure he was gone, out of vampire hearing range, and headed towards the trees and nearer the 'Stoner Pit'. I caught Elena, near the entrance, shooting me a questioning glare. I innocently waved her away, giving her the all good to go. Not that she waited for it.

I tapped the number into my mobile and pressed call. Damon, who apparently had no life as an undead citizen, picked up after the first ring.

"_Hello,_" Damon answered, voice silky.

"What an unexpected surprise," I sarcastically drawled. "Hi, stranger."

"_Winnie!"_ he gasped in mock surprise. _"How did _you_ get _my_ number?" _A pause. _"Are you stalking me?" _

I scoffed. "Me? Stalking you? I just happened to find a slip of paper in my pocket that had your digits on it. Tell me, do you go around carrying your prewritten number on sheets of paper or am I special?"

"_Obviously it's my murderer-for-hire card. Though I have no clue how you got it, because you made it clear you take care of your own problems."_ Here, Damon dropped his tone an octave lower, _"But I'm _available_." _

Damon, you charmer, you. "When's your next free date? I'm sure you've lots of clients lined up."

"_Well, I'd have to check my schedule, but I'm sure I can whip up something for the near future,"_ he played along. _"We can discuss my… fees."_

An amused grin sprang to my lips and I couldn't hold back my laugh any longer. Jeez, I liked Damon. He was entertaining and gave me the time of day. So far, he'd proved himself worthy of my time. There hadn't been danger of falling asleep- literally or otherwise- in his presence because he was fun.

"Must be tough times if you have to resort to passing out business cards."

"What can I say? It's a cutthroat job."

I dissolved into another fit of laughter, not having fully recovered from the last.

"Oh!" I gasped, "I met your brother! Stefan's so… dull. And that's the nice description. You should teach him lessons about having fun. Be the sensei you were meant to be."

"_There's no way!"_ Damon passionately cried. _"Fun isn't in Saint Stefan's vocabulary." _

"Yeah, I figured as much. You should definitely work on that brotherly relationship, though. It was smothering me and you weren't actually present."

Damon ignored most of my stellar advice. _"You didn't mention that you knew me, did you?"_

"What? Duh I did—No! Do I look stupid to you? He barely told me the truth when I asked him about you. I'd say that Steffy won't be pleased to find out his big bro is home." He wouldn't be happy at all.

Good.

But Damon didn't want me to spill the beans, so I'd stay quiet for the time being.

"_How do you know so much about my life?" _Damon muttered, not intended for me to hear.

Against my better judgement, knowing it would hint to him that something about me was off, I commented, "Don't be dramatic; I know nothing."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched my younger 'brother' enter the stoner den. If Elena found out he was stoned on the first day of school, he'd never hear the end of it. It'd be hysterical for all of 5 minutes before getting old. So while I totally advocated being around for those few, precious moments of entertainment, I also had to put up with the rest of the action, and that was so irritating to get dragged into, especially when it ended with my getting a lecture from either Jenna, Elena, or Jeremy, or all three. Half the time it wasn't an actual lecture, but more of a rant about me when the original problem was Jeremy. I much preferred to take the time to warn Jeremy to be careful than to watch it all play out and become the punching bag of verbal 'venting'.

"Damon? As much as I'm loathe to cut this conversation short, school is starting and while I've the spottiest attendance record, I never miss the first day and I'm never tardy."

"_What kind of logic is that? If you're going to be shady, don't break the habit by attending for a full day." _

Thanks for the advice, vampire: noted and ignored.

"I have an all or nothing outlook on school life," I breezily replied. "Besides, you're only insisting because you're obsessed with me. Murderer-for-hire card my bum. Goodbye, my stalker!"

"_I'm not-" _he began to say, but couldn't finish. I hung up on him.

I smirked down at my phone, adding Damon to my contacts list. Under Captain Sadistic, because I was convinced he would violently massacre his victims if he wanted to. Now all I needed was a picture! I imagined getting a brilliant photo of him all vamped out with blood dripping from his chin. If I saw that, I'd have to get it on my Polaroid first and then as his profile image.

_Buzz._

Damon- sorry, _Captain Sadistic _had texted. _You hung up on me. Rude._

_Told you you're obsessed with me,_ I quickly responded, pocketing my mobile afterwards.

As I made my way to Jeremy, I listened to him tell Vicki about how many of the drugs he was giving her she should take. As if she needed more help with further messing herself up. I didn't see what Jeremy saw in her. All I could conjure up when I thought about her was a pitiful girl. A weak girl who couldn't deal with her mother and father abandoning her in spite of the loving brother she had. A girl I despised because she forced her younger brother to grow up and take care of _her_ when it should've been the other way around.

I was alright with Matt. I liked him, not in the sense that he was someone I wanted to pursue friendship with (he was boring), but in the way that he was tolerable. He was a nice guy, and if he thought me weird, at least he didn't say it to my face. He was caring and had unfailing humanity that made him compassionate and loyal to even his sister that let him down time after time. He did nothing to deserve the bad things that happened to him. It wasn't fair that he had to be in the position he was in. He shouldn't have had to be a 17 year old struggling to be the man of the house to someone like Vicki and an unreliable mother.

I had the greyest spectre of morality, a very blurred line between right and wrong, and a non-existent conscience, but even I knew that was a cruel situation. I wouldn't want that to befall any person that didn't warrant that kind of treatment.

Of course, I also wouldn't care and even if he or she was an all-around great person like Matt, it wouldn't stop me from doing whatever I wanted to them.

In thinking this, I had arrived within human hearing range in time to listen to Vicki plead, "Oh, Ty, be nice. That's Elena's little brother."

Like he didn't know that already, smart one.

I spoke up, spooking them all with my silent entrance, "Yeah, and you know who else's 'baby brother' he is? Mine."

Calling him my brother made it sound like I cared for him more than I really did, something I wanted if it got Tyler and Vicki out of my hair faster.

"I know who he is. I'll still kick his butt," Tyler bluffed, eyes nervously skittering to me. After what had happened nearly 10 years ago, he was still frightened by me. I'd told him it was an accident, too, though I left out the part where I'd purposely do it again if he moved me to it.

I turned my cold stare to him. "If you think you can beat up Jeremy, by all means, give it a shot. Who would I be to stop you? Unless, of course, you're scared I'll stop you." I stepped aside, spreading my arms in a sign of being a bystander. "Go ahead."

When Tyler made no move, I dropped my arms back to my sides and huffed in disappointed. "And here I was anticipating a good fight. I can't say I'm shocked, though." Tyler sneered at me and I smiled back, quelling my _wildly _inappropriate urge to laugh in his face. With mirth, I spun to Jeremy, all traces of threat gone. "I came to say, don't let Elena catch you. She'll be ripping you and then _me_ an earful if she gets wind of your being toasted on the first day of the new year."

Jeremy nodded in acknowledgement, not breaking his stare down with Tyler. Their fighting over Vicki was getting ancient. Move on. If she wanted to be with someone like Lockwood, then she wasn't worth it. I'd drop her in the unkindest manner possible.

I was ready to leave, but then Tyler opened his mouth. "What is she?" he asked. "Your watchdog?"

I whirled around, his words giving me reason to inflict pain without appearing completely insane. Curling my fingers, I punched his shoulder with a restricted amount of force. It wasn't hard enough to break, but he'd be in loads of pain for a long enough time, the preferred option.

My fake brother was fighting between looking horrified and grinning in satisfaction, but my vicious smirk was feral and unflinching. There was something about throwing a punch that was exhilarating. It was addicting, my own personal drug, and I longed to carry it out again and again.

"Muscle spasm, jerk," I mentioned, flexing my hand while Tyler clutched his upper arm, seething, and Vicki repeatedly asked if he was okay, which I thought was an absurd question. I didn't understand why people asked that when the answer was obvious. It seemed to be a necessity.

Tossing my bangs from covering my eyes, I turned away from the party of 3 and headed to the school, this time with no interruptions.

Inside, I came across Bonnie and Elena staring at the new guy, AKA Stefan. "I'm sensing Seattle, and he plays the guitar," Bonnie said.

What in the world was she talking about?

Elena snickered, "You're really going to run this whole psychic thing into the ground, huh?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Since when are you psychic?" I took on suspicious, "Are you a witch? Because it would be great if you could conjure me up some food. Like, you could zap me a plate of crepes. That would be fantastic." I licked my lips, rubbing my hands together in anticipation.

My fake sibling cracked a thin smile, Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Grams says I'm a witch. Personally, I don't believe her."

I believed it. Vampires were real, then witches were real. I searched my memory. Nope, Grayson and Miranda never talked about any witches. I wondered if they knew. "I'm on board with it," I announced. I was rocking back and forth on the heels of my feet, occasionally jumping; I was jittery.

"Something bad is brewing in that evil brain of yours," Bonnie predicted darkly. We laughed, mine tapering off first. I was quickly tiring of their company. Where was the excitement in their dull conversation?

Fate chose that moment to betray Jeremy. A stoned male whisper-shouted, "Jeremy! Good batch, man."

I inwardly cringed as Elena narrowed her eyes at me and then said, "I'll be right back."

"Last stop to Crazy Ville. Next stop Loony Town. Location: Men's Bathroom. For those wanting to keep their sanity, stay standing. I repeat, stay standing," I said. At least Bonnie laughed at my antics.

"You should really go in there to keep both side neutral," Bonnie suggested.

"Are you kidding?" I asked her, "It's going to be a warzone in there!" And I always ended up being yelled at.

"You and I both know that you're going to end up in there," Bonnie wisely stated.

I sighed in defeat. I just couldn't stay away from my crazy fake family. "Right you are, Bon." Hearing their argument, I said, "I think I can wait a bit longer."

"You can't resist. You'll go in soon because you want to witness their fight."

"Is it that obvious?" I questioned in disinterest, eyeing my nails.

"Like I said, there's something bad brewing in that evil brain of yours." She said it as a resigned fact, less than an opinion and no longer a joke.  
I grinned wickedly, revelling in her wariness of me. "See you later, Bon-nie," I chimed. "His name is Stefan, by the way," I added, seeing that her attention had gone to him.

I swung the men's restroom door open.

Here went nothing.

"Alright, I think that's enough." Neither sibling blinked at my intrusion. "_Elena_. Let's go to class."

"Stop enabling him, Gwen! You're letting him tear his life apart!" Elena shouted.

Enabling? I didn't enable. I wasn't _letting _him do anything. I took no part in what he did. Jeremy wasn't my responsibility. He could do whatever he wanted, because it was _his_ life. If he wanted to be high as the sky and drown all his sorrows, I didn't care. I really didn't consider my indifference to him and his habits enabling or allowing and her calling me out on it amused me. She was blaming me for the wreck of her brother when I had nothing to do with it. He didn't need any help travelling his one way path.

"And Jeremy?" Elena was saying, "You haven't seen crazy! I gave you a summer pass, but I am _done_ watching you destroy yourself. No, you know what? Go ahead. Keep it up. But just know that I am going to be there to ruin your buzz every time, you got it?"

"Cut!" I clapped my hands together, "That's a wrap. Next time, Jeremy, you need to look a little angrier and Elena, well, you're doing great." I gleefully stared at both of them, knowing I was pushing their patience.

Little Gilbert huffed, "I don't need this." He slung his bag over his shoulder, heading to the door.

"Hey! Where are you going? We need to re-film this scene," I called after him, laughter catching me in the end.

Jeremy raised a hand over his head, flipping me off.

Rude.

"No? We'll reschedule then!"

He slammed the bathroom door open and stomped out.

"What the heck is the matter with you?" Elena hissed vehemently.

"With me? I'm not the one with a dys-_fun-_ctional sibling relationship," I replied, snickering. She stared at me blankly. "You see what I did there? Like saying I put the laughter in _manslaughter. _ So you guys take the fun out of-"

"This isn't the time to be making jokes, Gwen!" she yelled, cutting me off. Vague annoyance swept over me while she screwed her face up in disgust.

"But it was the perfect opportunity for one, right? Right. I think it was pretty clever."

"There's something very wrong with you," Elena muttered, shaking her head.

"If there is-" I thought I was decently unhinged, and there was something wrong with everyone else "- then why does Jeremy tell me how he feels?" I mean, I didn't understand it. I didn't remotely care about his feelings, and he still told them to me like I did. He probably knew I had no interest in his well-being, which was why he considered it okay to tell me his problems. He knew I wouldn't judge him or tell him to stop doing drugs because it was bad for him.

My question threw Elena off-guard. "He talks to you?" she asked in a small voice.

Oh boo-hoo, she felt bad now. She had to be doing something wrong if her blood relation was talking to the resident crazy and not her.

"Hard to belief, right? Who would willingly tell me their problems, right? Well, it must have to do with the fact that I won't lecture him about it because _I. Don't. Care._ That's how I know he hasn't been using drugs as often. Did you know that?" I shoved it in her face, not feeling an ounce of guilt for it.

Boredom crashed into me and I voiced it. "As interesting as this hasn't been, I'll be going now."

No use sticking around here. There was nothing left to keep me distracted. Besides, I felt like I'd drained a dozen cans of Monster with the way energy was bursting through me. I had no clue how I was going to get through the rest of the day.

* * *

Somehow, I managed to struggle through every single bloody class, finally making it to Mr. Tanner's final history class. The teachers had no idea that their hatred for me kept me going, how I loved their displeasure with me. Mr. Tanner was my favourite. He had no clue how to deal with me and ended up making it worse for myself.

And it was just my luck: Elena, Bonnie, Matt, Caroline, and Stefan were seated in desks near one another. This was going to be exciting.

I slouched in my chair and pulled out the notebook I used for every class. It had no notes, and by the end of the year, it'd still be note empty but filled to the brim with doodles. The little pictures looked pleasant at a glance, but if you looked closer, the inner workings of my mind became present. Take the drawing I'd been working on all day instead of paying attention for instance: Oh, look at the cute animals- there's a duck, and a chick, and the 3 Little Pigs. Oh, there's some flowers and a superhero that looks suspiciously like Heath Ledger's Joker. Oh, and if you look here in the centre right, you can see a time traveller and a clock and… no.

Is that… Is that a knife? And blood? That can't be right, you'll think. The rest of the drawing looks so nice, you'll argue.

But no. That's a knife and that spot you think can't be blood is blood. There's also a girl running away from a monstrous werewolf hidden in those 'cute' animal drawing and a decapitated head embedded in the flowers.

Look hard, you'll tell yourself after realising this to be true. It'll be like a game of iSpy. Can you find my gruesome drawings? What about in the other pages filled with ink collages? Can you find them there as well?

No one could, though they were right there, in plain sight. All those nice images covered the bad, and then everyone was fooled.

The second bell rang and Mr. William Tanner shuffled in, shutting the door after him. "Alright class, settle down," he brusquely commanded.

"Charming as ever, William," I observed. I'd taken the liberty of occupying one of the seats in the very front of the classroom. I took the seat mainly to further infuriate whichever teacher I had. I got to watch them suffer through not being able to do anything to me. The dislike from the students that actually wanted to take notes and give their undivided attention was a bonus. It created a chaotic atmosphere that I loved.

"It's such a pleasure to have you in my class for another year, Gwen," he drily replied.

"Oh I always knew you loved me! We're on a first name basis!" I squealed.

"Don't make me give you detention on the first day of school," Mr. Tanner warned.

I leaned forward in my seat, "Forgive me, but I can't hold you to an empty threat. You haven't given me detention since freshman year and I think we both remember what happened then." Disquiet rippled through my classmates, causing Stefan to toss me a confused glance. Poor vampire was out of the loop.

William groaned, "Please be quiet and stay that way for the rest of the lesson."

Smirking, I dutifully saluted him before settling back down.

So class went on. Slowly. Dully. Filled with things I already knew.

Mr. Tanner's voice droned, "Once our home state of Virginia joined the Confederacy in 1861, it created a tremendous amount of tension within the state. People in Virginia's northwest region had different ideals than those from the traditional deep-south. Then Virginia divided in 1863 with the northwest region joining the Union…"

Jeez, it was like he expected people to be interested in what he was saying when he didn't sound excited by it.

_Buzz._

Stealthily, I pulled my phone out.

_Ignoring people is rude._ Damon.

My lips tugged upwards, mood brightening. Did the vampire really have nothing better to do? _This is something I would never say but: school is more important than you._

His reply came in a matter of seconds. _Winnie! How could you ever say that? _

'_Tis one of the most offensive insults I'm capable of. _

That so wasn't true.

_Well. So how's your oh-so-important school?_

_Damon. Don't even mention school. I require your murderer-for-hire services. Come kill my teachers? I can't do it without looking suspicious. _I sent the message, uncaring if he decided to take it seriously or not.

Let's just pretend I didn't ask a murderer to kill anyone.

_First murders are free of charge. The others, we'll have to discuss. You're welcome, _Damon texted back.

_In return for graciously appeasing your murderous urges, you should give me your leather jacket. _

Bargaining. It seemed a good time for it.

_Don't drag my jacket into this. It has virgin blood on it, remember?!_

_Damon, I don't care about that! Please give it to me! You can wear it on the weekends, I promise! _That was such a lie. I'd never give it back once I got it.

And I would get it.

_You've made my clothing article sound like a pet. _

I paused. He was right.

Go with the flow, Gwen. _It might as well be. You're possessive of it. _

_Sentimental value. Haven't you heard of it?_

Sentimental value. How bothersome.

_Nope. I'm attached to nothing. _Or at least I had yet to come across something or someone worth being attached to. _Regardless, you'll give me your jacket._

I could imagine him rolling his eyes. _Why would I do that?_

I smirked; he was trapped. _You're obsessed with me. Why're you so obsessed with me?_

_Oh my God. I don't know how you got this notion, but I'm not obsessed with you. I'm leaving just to prove it. _

He so was.

_Bite me, Damon. You can't leave if I've already left. Bye!_

HA!

…

I was so childish.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Damon was fixated on me. I released a breathy laugh.

"Something funny?" Mr. Tanner asked, eyes burning holes into my downcast head.

I lifted it, levelling my gaze with his in challenge. Because I didn't have any better remarks, I shrugged my shoulders and went back to my business. Elena shot me 'the look.'

As if that did a thing.

The final bell rang and I jumped over a couple of desks in my rush to get out.

My phone buzzed twice more in my pocket.

* * *

Damon knocked back his shot of whiskey, holding tight to the cheap glass in his hand. He'd put his phone on the counter beside him, and, for some reason, his freaking eyes kept going back to the silent mobile. He was waiting- _eagerly_ awaiting- a text from Gwen.

He could do whatever he wanted, so why was wanting to talk to Gwen rubbing him the wrong way? She was the first person he'd come across that was _fun._ There was nothing bad about that. She knew Elena as well, the Katherine duplicate. Gwen wouldn't be the worst person to be on good terms with. She'd be someone he could dangle out in front of Stefan, a looming threat. He could taunt him manipulating her over his brother's head while he worked on his rescue plan for Katherine, the woman he loved. Unlike Stefan, he wasn't going to flippantly move on- and to her look-alike, no less! That was the ultimate betrayal. He was loyal, and Katherine would see that once he saved her.

In the meantime, he could do this. He was a bad-arse vampire with no boundaries and he could do what he wanted. If he wanted to have an accomplice- willing or unwilling- then he would. There was nothing wrong with that.

So why was he trying to convince himself of it and why was anger snapping through him? It wasn't like he was doing anything _wrong._ And if he was, he didn't _care._ He hadn't cared about those sort of things in a long time. Why was he so full of rage?

The bartender came over and refilled Damon's glass. Damon eyed him, considering the guy to be his next victim. God, he wanted to rip that human's throat out. He wanted to feel the warm blood he stole sliding into his blood stream, refreshing him, and to feel the life drain out of the person he fed from as they drifted into painless oblivion, into pure and simple nothingness.

He smirked darkly, fangs aching in his gums, yearning to come out.

And Damon was never one to deny his impulses.

* * *

_**All right, lay it on me. What do you think? Good? Bad? **_


	3. To Punch a Tree

_**Hey! Okay here's the new second chapter! Yeah... Here. :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**To Punch a Tree**

_JACKET?! THE LEATHER JACKET ON YOUR BACK? YOU'RE NOT TEASING ME? GIVE IT! I WANT THAT BLOODY JACKET DAMON. SO HELP ME, IF YOU'RE JOKING, I'LL STAKE YOU IN THE FACE. IN THE BLOODY FACE. _

Immediately after hitting send, I reconsidered and sent:

_CORRECTION: I'LL STAKE YOU IN THE FACE WHILE LAUGHING MANIACALLY, YOU BISCUIT HEAD. _

Stupid Damon. Damon. Stupid. Ugh. No.

He couldn't just say he'd give me his fabulous jacket and then not respond. Not okay. I need him to tell me if he was truly considering passing the jacket to me. I could die without knowing and then I'd be stuck haunting him because he hadn't answered one question! And then I'd end up an invisible ghost and I'd be lonely and bored and no one would be touchable for my amusement. I couldn't survive as a ghost!

Jeez, I wasn't kidding about stabbing him. I'd do it and take great joy in it.

_Crumpets Damon! I'm tripping over rocks for you. The WORLD needs to know if what you say is true. Leaving us hanging is cruel and unusual punishment. I could have you sued! _

And then I tripped over a tree branch.

Walking through the old cemetery section of the woods and texting at the same time was not a good combination for me.

I was sooooo going to drive a wooden stick into his cheek. See how fast the vampire could heal when he had a million splinters embedded near his skull.

Across from me, sitting on the archaic brick wall that lined the cemetery, was a crow. Staring at me. With beady black eyes that twinkled with mischief that a bird's eyes should never have. Because they were animals. Not human.

Damon, you sly vampire, can you possess innocent little animals?

I'd noticed the crow back at school, the moment I'd been out of the building. It'd been perched on the top step of the stairs. From there, it was pretty obvious it was following me. The crow wasn't the most discreet bird around. On my way here, I'd tested flaunting around and hiding from it to see what would happen. On every occasion the poor bird circled around, nearly collided with a tree, and cawed in frustration, like it was telling me to come back.

Damon Salvatore was a stalker.

I stood up, nonchalantly brushing the dirt off of my clothes. Then I waved at my newfound pet crow and winded my fingers down until only one was left up. Was that my _middle _finger? For shame! I released a mock gasp as I stared between the bird and my hand.

It… _cackled_?

Nice way not to be obvious, Damon.

Well, I liked having a bird trail my moves. He was my little pet now. The decidedly_ he_\- because there was something strange to me about Damon possessing a girl crow- needed a name.

Tippy!

That was a brilliant name. Tippy the tipper, reporting my secrets to an obsessive blood sucker.

Perfect.

_Damon, _I texted, not paying attention to where I was going- _again- I just adopted a pet crow._ Wouldn't he be surprised that I indirectly acknowledged his stalking?

It was hilarious.

_Where in the world did you find a crow to 'adopt?' _ He was playing it cool. That was cool.

Indifferent, I shrugged, knowing Damon would pick it up through Tippy. _He's following me ALL over the place! His name is Tippy. He must like me. He LOVES me! :D You know who else likes me? YOU!_

I grinned, stepping around a dead animal corpse. Well. That wasn't there this morning. Poor bunny.

_ Puh-lease! You wish. _

I laughed glibly.

_Well played, Damon, well played. _

… Wait. That bunny had been something's food. I'd practically lived in the forest for half my life, and I'd never seen prey left alone, or at least not without the predator nearby. Frowning, I doubled back and squatted beside the rabbit, pocketing my mobile. Yeah, predators like wolves didn't bury their kills in shallow leaf graves. And where was all the blood? If another animal had done this, there should've been a mess. The brown-haired rabbit should've been a mangled mass of broken bones and matted fur, barely recognisable, but this was intact and the amount of blood _not _was startling. A thought came to mind, and I moved the bunny's head- two puncture wounds.

Were there vegetarian vampires residing in Mystic Falls?

As far as I knew, there were only two vampires in town, Damon and Stefan. Damon wouldn't stoop so low as to feed from animals to get his fill. He embraced his nature to its full extend. He would never turn away from what I guessed was the high of human blood. Besides, it was a vampire's basic need to drink human blood. No, drinking strictly from animals would be a quirk of a guilty conscience. Damon wasn't guilty. Stefan, on the other hand, I could imagine doing something like this. He was broody and depressing, a perfect personality fit for swearing off real people blood.

Steffy the Veggie Vamp.

Figured.

Wasn't killing animals one of the first signs of becoming a serial killer? Oh, I'd be careful of Stefan. Who knew what would happen if he got a little taste of human blood? That had to be the only reason Stefan would drink animals. He had no self-control.

I wiped my hands together and stood up.

_Ooooh I found a bunny carcass in the woods! It's odd that there's no blood, don't you think? _ I texted Damon.

HA HA HA.

I recognised my surroundings; I was close to Miranda and Grayson's graves. I'd only been there once, and that was on the day they were buried. I'd been forced to go, a decision _everyone_\- and I mean every single one- came to regret. Something about my incessant joking, the way I wasn't grieving, the way I didn't _care,_ yada, yada, yada. And when I told them they couldn't spell funeral without fun, they basically kicked me out of the remaining proceedings. As usual, I'd been the nuisance, the piece that didn't fit.

But where I didn't fit, Elena and Jeremy had. Jeremy visited on occasion, but Elena had the record. She came here, like, every bloody day. How was that for moving on? And I'd stumbled into her territory. Too little, too late, wasn't that the saying? I'd ended up here, so I might as well make the most of it.

_If you're trying to insinuate something, this murderer-for-hire doesn't do pathetic animals. _

No, of course not, Damon. That's beneath you.

I snickered.

"Gwen?" Elena's voice floated towards me. For some reason, she heard that and nothing else. Rolling my eyes, I found her leaned against a grave across from her parents. Talk about respect for the dead. Wasn't there something about how we shouldn't step on people's burial sights? Wasn't that a no-no? Elena should be ashamed of herself!

I threw a dazzling smile in her direction, forgoing the hard ground for a climbable tree. I pulled myself up, swinging my legs over the side and staring at her expectantly.

"Hello Lena," I enunciated. I looked around me, but Tippy was nowhere to be found.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said with uncontained wonder. She had her legs drawn to her chest, and her diary lay open on her knees. Elena wasn't bothering to cover it. Interesting.

"Was in the neighbourhood," I explained, exhaling loudly. "A complete accident, I assure you." Why would I purposely crash into her grieving time? How unexciting that would be for me. How _rude_ it would be. Why would a girl do that?

"What were you laughing at?" Elena asked. All frustration from the bathroom episode was gone. I was justifiably cautious of where this conversation was heading.

"A text," I answered vaguely, messing with my hoodie sleeve, turning it inside out and back again. She needn't know about Damon. He wanted to be kept a secret; I respected that. I wasn't really sure why, but it'd always been one of my standards, my rules. If someone had plans or an agenda, then it was their business and I wasn't one to interfere. Especially if it was fun. But that rule was also subject to change with my mood. Right now, I was feeling nice, and I would hold off from causing any mischief. Besides, I was curious to see his plans unfold. For now. I couldn't say for sure if I'd feel the same way in an hour or day. We'd see.

Elena's eyes took on a mischievous glint, as if she were picking up on invisible 'vibes.' "From a member of the opposite gender?"

Jeez, Elena, when you put it like that. Why would she ask? She made it seem like we were close siblings. We weren't. We also weren't talkative with each other. She had no place asking.

"Come now, Elena. I don't fancy him." Or anyone else for that matter.

"You never 'fancy' any male," Elena moaned. And if I did, you'd be the last to know.

It wasn't like there'd been any spark. He was handsome, but I didn't find myself attracted to him. Or did that come later? When was all of this supposed to happen? I wanted to experience everything life had to offer, and that included feelings of lust. Maybe I had to hang out with Damon more before I developed a remote liking for him in _that_ way. Was that how it traditionally worked?

"At least give me his name," Elena tried.

"He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. The Dark Lord. You-Know-Who," I deadpanned, then promptly burst into a fit of laughter. The look Elena gave me was hysterical.

"Please!" she begged.

Catching my breath, I accepted that she wasn't going to drop it, so I changed the subject. "What about you? I caught you and Stefan making googly eyes at each other. You're so into him." They'd be a good, dull couple.

My amusement was quickly fading, replaced by the familiar sense that I was shrivelling up, dying from boredom. Was that possible? I'd probably be the first person to ever be found killed by doing nothing. I'd become a historical figure in medical science!

My lips sprang into a full blown grin.

Elena blushed, looking down so she couldn't see my odd look. "Maybe… but now isn't the right time." She moved her sad gaze to her parents' gravestones.

Ugh, Elena. Move on! Sucking up crude comments, I hissed the air through my teeth. "It's been _months._ Miranda and Grayson wouldn't want their precious daughter moping about not living because they died. They'd want you to move on. Stop using them as an excuse not to get back into real life again."

I was such a good 'sibling.' I picked at the tree bark, all the seriousness draining me. It was worse than being sleepy, it was the one where you were too tired to fall asleep, so every moment felt excruciating in a zombie-like haze.

"Hey Elena!" I yelled, mischief rousing me, "Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side got cut off? He's all _right_ now!"

Elena's nose scrunched up and her brown eyes scrutinised me as I sniggered.

"Oh! I thought of another," I gasped. "Okay, okay! Cannibals are so _organ_ised! Get it? Right? OH! Okay, cannibals really get to the heart of matter! And they like to… _meat_ people…"

Tippy cawed out of nowhere. It sounded like a guffaw. Damon was amused. It made me laugh harder.

"Where is that cawing coming from?" Elena questioned, looking around her, paranoid.

My crow made another noise, like a grunt of annoyance from not being paid attention to. Her head whipped towards a large gravestone a couple metres away. The gravestone had once been one of those creepy angels, the ones that some families put over the graves of children that'd died. Except this one was so old that chunks were missing here or there. Then there was the whole 'its head is missing' thing. So where its head was supposed to be was where Tippy was chilling, fluffing his feathers. He was channelling his inner arrogant Damon.

"There you are, Tippy!" I gushed. "My jokes were funny, weren't they?" He nodded. I flung out an arm, eyebrows raised. "Even the birds thinks so, Elena! Learn how to laugh."

"You named a crow? That thing could have rabbis, Gwen," she said, her voice taking on the paternal lecture tone.

"That's not just any bird! His name is Tippy and he's my new pet. He _chose _me," I added with a crazed grin.

"What do you mean it chose you?"

"It's been following me since school ended."

"What?!" Her eyes widened, "That's creepy, Gwen!"

"Oh, he's harmless," I said. Tippy gained a reproachful look, and I knew Damon was irritated at me for my comment. He was the opposite of harmless. But I just dared him to call my bluff, to prove me wrong.

"Harmless," she grumbled. "Apparently, he's smart enough to understand your jokes and stalk you."

I scooted off of the tree branch and landed lightly on the ground. "Isn't he awesome?"

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I'm just leaving. Your sulkiness is bringing me down," I blatantly told her. I signalled to my crow, wondering how much I'd be able to get away with towing him about before Damon got sick of it and left.

* * *

I hadn't seen or heard a thing from Damon since yesterday, and if I were at all honest, I'd say that it kind of bothered me. I didn't miss him, definitely not. I just missed what he represented. Entertainment. He was the only amusing person around Mystic Falls, and without him I found myself exponentially restless. I'd discovered a new standard for being distracted only to have it torn away from me in the form of an unreliable vampire. I had no clue why he was in town. For all I knew, he'd left. Then what would I do? And if he was lurking still, he'd better pray that I didn't run into his brother. I was in the mood for spilling the beans, for creating pandemonium by telling Stefan I knew Damon.

Puffing out my cheeks, I rolled my eyes skyward, grimacing at another day of bright light. It was like the world was oozing happiness and love, forcibly soaking me in it. The sky overnight had been blotted with the predawn cloud patches, blocking the moon and the stars. Last night, of all nights, the real thing and not the replica of it on my ceiling, would've been nice to see.

Insomnia had struck again, really no surprise, and I'd spent a good portion of the time destroying Call of Duty. I'd just wanted to play a shooting game. I hadn't played in years, but that was because Miranda and Grayson had banned me from playing. It made me too curious about what real killing was like- according to them- and that made me 'dangerous.' Because apparently practising throwing a knife- for self-defence- qualified as thinking about murder. Killing hadn't been my _first _thought! Then a bleary-eyed Jenna had come out of her room to see what the commotion was- meaning the sounds of people dying on the TV- and said, "I thought you weren't supposed to play that game," I told her a knife and a gun were two different things.

She'd gone back to bed.

After that, I'd gone back to my room and stared at the ceiling in the darkness, eyes tracing the glow in the dark constellations. I'd thought about messing with knives and Miranda and Grayson and all the people I lived around until the sun broke through my window in fragments.

So now I was making a trip to the Mystic Falls Grill with nerves on the fritz. Every little thing was making me jump, one wrong word making me snap. I'd scared the life out of some guy for being too loud at school by grabbing his hand and squeezing until he was crying. I kept imagining things that weren't there, only realising it after the fact. Like how the ground was opening up to swallow me, or that there were people screaming to escape behind closed doors that weren't locked, or that the roof was collapsing and we'd all be trapped. My favourite was the man and woman from my nightmares seeping into the real world and conducting a screaming match. And then they killed each other.

Essentially, I was a week and a half in without sleep and losing it. Any moment now, I was going to drop off into my dead slumber for a whole fanfrickingtastic minute and then pop awake again until I was back to my level of reasonably sane.

I needed more bloody alcohol if I was going to make it through all of this. It wasn't like I could just lay down and sleep. No, that was too _easy._ I wasn't allowed to do something simple. A part of me that I clearly wasn't in control of created a one man council that decreed that I had to wait to sleep when this happened until my body literally forced itself out of consciousness. Elena and Jenna always told me that I should take sleeping pills whenever they noticed my tired, wild-eyed stare and my lofty stance. I kept telling them they didn't work, but they kept suggesting it. Every. Single. Time.

It was enough to drive a girl insane.

I chuckled to myself, laughter fading when I realised I was at the Grill. Standing right smack dab in front of the entrance. Figuring I hadn't missed anything important, and being too exhausted to sift through my recent recollection, I sluggishly forced the door open.

Jeez! What had they done to the door? It weighed a ton. Who made door like that? This wasn't some military place that required a bullet proof, steel door.

I was probably just weak from being sleep deprived. I needed food. Food would help.

At some point during my battle with the door, a girl exited the building, holding it open for me to walk through first. She mustn't have paid attention, because she didn't give me any weird looks for standing there with a hand limply holding the handle. In fact, she looked despairing and lost. She had one of those faces that were average, the kind easily forgotten; average brown hair, average brown eyes, average nose, etc. Even the clothes she was wearing- sweat shirt and pants- were average. Like she wanted to be forgettable.

If I'd been at all up to par, I would've wondered why she was so sad looking and why she was wearing such hot clothes in still semi-warm weather.

Instead, I stumbled through the door she held and she scattered from my mind. It wasn't like I'd do anything for her in either shape. But at least _someone _would've wondered.

I managed to get to a table and ordered the largest they had of a burger, fries, and chocolate shake. It suddenly felt like I hadn't eaten in a century and I wanted everything in sight- humans excluded. Basically everything inedible excluded.

A few minutes after I'd gotten my food, Bonnie and Caroline walked in. Caroline was flouncing about, talking about the one and only Stefan Salvatore. I half-heartedly listened in, mainly focusing on devouring my food.

"_His name is Stefan Salvatore. He lives with his uncle _(more like great, great, great, great nephew) _up at the old Salvatore Boarding House. He hasn't lived here since here was a kid _(true, but I'm sure there were lots of visitations)_. Military family _(kudos for the excellent cover story, Steffy) _so they moved around a lot. He's a Gemini, and his favourite colour is blue."_

Blue. How generic of him.

"_You got all that in one day?"_ Bonnie questioned in disbelief. I flickered my eyes between them and my sustenance, debating whether or not I should go talk to them. The idea of talking to people I could potentially torture with underappreciated jokes and amuse myself with brought forth a flood of invigorating alertness.

Caroline scoffed, _"Oh, please, I got all that between 3__rd__ and 4__th__ period… We're planning a June wedding." _ Bonnie shook her head, smiling softly. They sat down at their usual table, having skipped over my presence the way people usually did.

Plucking up my things, I hopped over to them, each step taking the weight of sleepiness off of me. It was a strange sensation, but I was grateful to be feeling better.

Greeting them, I plopped myself down in an empty chair beside Bonnie, offering up my mountain of fries. They turned me down, and Bonnie excused herself to talk with Matt, who was pensively staring at us. The guy was still hung up on Elena. 4 months. He needed to move on just like Elena did.

When she left, Caroline resumed her speech on Stefan and I ate, practically inhaling my French fries. "Have you seen him?" she was saying, "He's just so handsome! And we'd be a perfect couple—Gwen? Did you seriously just eat all of that? You had like, enough for a whole group of people! God, where does it go? You never gain any weight, it's not fair."

"I exercise a lot," I said around the straw of my shake, shrugging. I could probably eat my weight on a good day and burn it off in the same time span. It made up for the days where I could barely eat anything.

Caroline nodded, "You must. I swear, you just ate, like, 10 pounds of food." Okay, that was a huge exaggeration. It wasn't that much food.

"Whatever it was, I'm still hungry."

Her eyes bulged. "You're still hungry?! What are you? You're no longer human. Humans can't eat that much."

I snickered, prepared to launch my answer about being a vampire when the light in Caroline's eyes dimmed. With one look over my shoulder, I understood why. Stefan and Elena had walked into the Grill. Together.

Anticipation livened me, squishing the remainders of tiredness.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

"So, you were born in Mystic Falls?" Caroline asked Stefan. I was extremely bored, chewing on my straw in the glass long empty. She'd been firing questions non-stop at Saint Stefan (I had to appreciate Damon terminology- Damonology) since they sat down. For 30 minutes, Caroline had been at it and her interrogation was far from over.

"Mm-hmm. And moved when I was still young," Stefan said.

Lies! He'd turned into a vampire and left. I wondered if he got tired of lying all the time.

Bonnie stepped in. "Parents?"

"My parents passed away." Died waaaaaaaay before all of us. Long, long ago in the land before time known as 1850- something to 1860- something.

"I'm sorry," Elena said, and I swear they had one of those TV moments where their eyes met and they just knew they were true lovers.

Bleh.

Why was I still here? This was boring. I could feel my energy draining away.

"Any siblings?"

My ears perked up. Damon!

I could text the vampire! Excellent!

_Emergency: Tippy's all alone outside! Come over to the Grill and give him much needed company. _

"None that I talk to," Stefan replied briskly. I looked up from my phone to watch him with puzzlement. Why hadn't he given me that answer? With that one, it sounded like he didn't have any. "I live with my uncle."

_ Too late…_ Damon texted back, funnelling my attention away.

_Did you kidnap my crow?_ At least I would see him again if that was the case.

Flirty Caroline made a return appearance. "So, Stefan, if you're new, then you don't know about the party tomorrow."

"It's a back to school thing at the Falls," Bonnie clarified.

_No. I did better: _Damon's response.

… What did that mean?

_YOU KILLED HIM?! I WASN'T LYING ABOUT STAKING YOU IN THE FACE! _I was soooo going to hurt him!

_NO! Jeez, Winnie, don't jump to conclusions. I set him free._

Loser. He was my pet for a reason. _Oh, he'll come back to me. Tippy loves me._ I paused, tilting my head slightly to hear the crow's cawing at passer-byers. _I just listened to his majestic cawing. You failed at 'setting him free.'_

"Of course she is," Bonnie said. Who's what? Oh yeah. Elena was so going to the Falls party. Totally her scene. Yep.

_Daaaaammmon! Your brother and my fake sister are making googly, lovey-dovey eyes at each other. Rescue me or go on a killing spree and take me with you!_

I sent the text at the same time I got Damon's: _That crow has Stockholm syndrome. _

Strangled laughter escaped my lips, drawing stares from the group around me. I looked down at my mobile and back at them. "What?" I innocently said.

Elena gave me a 'knowing' look. "You're texting the guy from earlier, aren't you?"

"Guy? What guy? Is he hot? Do you like him?" Caroline exploded. "Give us details!"

Bonnie's eyes widened and she grinned. "Do you? Oh my God. What does it mean?" She tentatively poked me. "Is she an alien?"

Ha-ha. You're hilarious. Give the girl an award.

"It means she's not asexual!" Elena chimed.

I glared at her. She imitated my innocent look.

Evil 'sibling.'

"I don't fancy anyone," I reported. I didn't like Damon. I'd know if I did.

And Stefan was zero help. "I take it her liking someone is a big deal?" he asked Elena while Caroline and Bonnie continued harassing me with questions. The popular one was 'what's his name?'

No help!

Frowning, I leaned back and stole a fry from some stranger's tray and flung it at Elena, hitting her on the nose. The bonus was that it had ketchup on it. The fry stuck on her face.

HA!

Elena stared at it with crossed eyes, and I doubled over in laughter. Sort of. Bonnie and Caroline were going at me like there was no tomorrow. I hated all of this probing. Couldn't they listen to me for once? I didn't like Damon Salvatore. No attraction meant no. I was still interested in no one. Too bad, so sad. Move on.

Irritation lined my veins, coursing through me. "Stop it," I demanded. "I don't fancy him, so stop."

But they wouldn't. My annoyance grew, a tight blazing fire in my belly. It surged through me, spreading to my toes and fingertips, everywhere. A strange, heady feeling settled in my head, making me feel invincible, and I loved the sensation. And then it burst, and I felt as if heat had blasted out of me when the lights in the Grill flickered simultaneously.

Weird.

The girls fell silent, trading anxious looks, and gave me the chance to escape. I skittered away from them, this time barely having to push the door to open it.

As I walked, my energy drained, leaving me in a bigger pit of zombie-level wariness than before. Sleep really was the only thing that would fix this.

* * *

I blankly stared at the board of whatever class I was in, counting down the minutes to get to my final class. Three days straight and I hadn't missed a single lesson. Not that I was paying attention, but at least I was present… and half alive. I hadn't missed the teachers' surprised but appreciative glances to see me sitting through their class without causing a distraction. They were lucky… Lucky I was… lucky…

_BOOM!_

"Gwen!"

Ow! Loud! Too loud!

My eyes popped open. Bonnie's head floated in front of me, brown orbs concerned or something like that. Agh! Why? Why did she look like the Cheshire cat? Where was her body?

Bonnie's brow creased. "What are you talking about?" Had I said that out loud? She moved back a few paces. Oh. There was the rest of her. Okay.

I blinked drowsily, observing the students shuffling out of class.

"A minute, right?" I asked, yawning.

She nodded. "On the dot. Your power slumbers have got to be the creepiest thing ever. Your eyes were still open, but you were completely checked out. Like, they were glazed over."

"At least I don't drool," I mumbled, grabbing my notebook and sliding out of my seat. Tanner's class was only around the corner, so we didn't have to be anywhere in a hurry.

"I'd rather see you dribbling saliva everywhere than ever see that again," she said, adding a shudder for dramatic effect.

"Sorry my sleeping habits are the stuff of your nightmares." It could've been worse. Somehow. I was sure. For the minute that I stayed asleep, I could've gone full on sociopathic killer and chopped up people. At least I didn't do that. And it could happen!

"I didn't mean it like that, Gwen. It's just weird. How did you even develop that habit?"

Well, you see, Bonnie, Mama Gilbert and Papa Gilbert wanted me to stop having nightmares because I was waking the neighbourhood with my screams and annoying them with my talk of explosions only I could hear, and how the bloody kelp was a 5 year old supposed to figure out how to quit having nightmares? It was a very hard thing to do, especially when they because angry at me for failing and punished me for it. So to solve the problem, I started forcing myself to stay awake in order to keep everyone pleased- except myself, but what did I matter?

"Oh, it just kind of… snuck up on me," I replied, the lie easily falling from my lips. "Sort of like my taken-for-granted jokes did."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Really. You, out of the blue, decided to start finding jokes and sharing them?"

"Fine; that came about the day of Tyler's accident," I said. Bonnie almost imperceptibly cringed away from me. Jeez, it'd been an_ accident_.

Hopefully.

But that was the day I'd started collecting jokes, my vast array of corny puns. Until Damon, I seemed to be the only one who found in amusement in them. Sober, that is. Elena and her friends got a kick out of my jokes when they were drunk.

Bonnie was squinting at me. More specifically, at my hair. Baffled, I raised a pale hand to touch the strands. "Did you re-dye your streaks?" she asked. "They look lighter."

"Yeah." NO! What in the world was she talking about? I hadn't touched my streaks for a couple of weeks. "I was thinking of going purple."

No I wasn't. But it was best to go along with whatever she was seeing. Less questions.

"Well, you should keep it this shade. It looks awesome," Bonnie said, smiling. I nodded at her. Alrightie then. I wasn't planning on doing anything else anyway because I hadn't done anything in the first place!

We arrived in Mr. Tanner's class seconds before the bell rang, and we went our separate ways. I settled into another chair, fingering a lock of dyed hair that did indeed look different, more of a light purple colour with tints of blue that the original colour.

What was going on?

Mr. Tanner stared at me with narrowed eyes, waiting for any sort of smart comment. When he got none, smugness settled into the creases of his face. Sadistic teacher.

Irrational sadness brushed me. No one was concerned about my change in behaviour. They were all just glad I wasn't causing any trouble. Granted, they had no reason to care about me. I didn't care about them or what they thought, but for some reason it bothered me. It made me feel dejected, and I hated being any form of miserable.

Coldness washed my emotional slate clean. It was rare that something as silly as unhappiness got the better of me, and I didn't want that changing any time soon. The last time I'd been sad, it'd led to empathy and in turn guilt. I wasn't keen on that sort or morality. Much too hindering and boring.

I flipped my notebook open and began to sketch the house from my nightmares, drawing the man and woman into rocking chairs on the wrap around porch.

"The Battle of Willow Creek took place right at the end of the war in our very own Mystic Falls. How many casualties resulted in this battle?" Tanner quizzed, gazing intently at Bonnie. "Ms. Bennett?"

As usual, he skipped right over me and my brilliant mind. There were 346 deaths, not including the 27 civilians 'accidentally' killed in the old church by confederates. Considering it'd happened in 1864, I was willing to bet those civilians had been vampires and they'd been in that church on purpose.

Bonnie cast her eyes around. "Um… a lot? I'm not sure. Like a whole lot." She nodded her head along with her words.

Tanner scowled. "Cute becomes dumb in an instant, Ms. Bennett," he reminded. Rude. "Mr. Donovan? Would you like to take this opportunity to overcome your embedded jock stereotype?"

Matt, who I wanted to applaud, soundly replied, "It's okay, Mr. Tanner. I'm cool with it." I snickered, cruelly smirking when the teacher shot me a glare.

"What about… Elena? Surely you can enlighten us about one of the town's most significant historical events?" Oh now he was just being mean. He knew she had no clue what the answer was.

Elena looked down, embarrassed, and stuttered, "I'm sorry, I- I don't know."

"I was willing to be lenient last year for obvious reasons, Elena, but the personal excuses ended with summer break."

He was crossing a no-no line that _I,_ the girl that often lacked empathy, had. You didn't pick on people when they had recently deceased parents, even if said parents were terrible to their fake child. Even _I _didn't bully people like he did. I said stuff that drove people crazy, threatened people, participated in questionable activities, and dropped the occasional scathing remark, but I didn't go for public belittlement to make me feel better about myself.

Sneering, I said in a dangerously low whisper, "People like you get what's coming to them."

His spine went rigid, and I smirked. I'd done well. That'd sounded seriously threatening.

Stefan spoke up then, preventing Tanner from responding. "There were 346 casualties. Unless you're counting local civilians."

Go Steffy! I like you again!

Mr. Tanner grudgingly moved his gaze to Stefan, "That's correct, Mr…?"

"Salvatore."

"Salvatore…" he mulled over the name. "Any relation to the original settles here at Mystic Falls?"

Yep. He's the very original, one and only, younger Salvatore brother from 1864.

"Distant."

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

"Well, very good. Except, of course, there were no civilian casualties in this battle," William 'corrected' smugly. He was wrong, _of course. _

I opened my mouth to inform the teacher of his blunder, but Stefan beat me to it. "Actually, there were 27, _sir._ Confederate soldiers fired on a church, believing it to be housing weapons. They were wrong. It was a night of great loss. The founder's archives are, uh, stored in civil hall if you'd like to brush up on your facts. Mr. Tanner."

I grinned, finding it amusing that another student had managed to silence the Tanner. The only downfall was that that student had to be Stefan.

* * *

The party was tonight, and I had every intention of going. I was determined to soak up the chance to escape from the predictable life of the Gilbert house, despite the parties having their own pattern. There was always an end of school party and a back to school party, without fail, at the Falls every year. The guy from Duke would throw his a few months down the road and between the times, a couple standalone parties would pop up and never happen again.

Mystic Falls was too predictable. It needed shaking up.

At least Damon and Stefan showing up held potential for wrecking the mundane order that haunted Mystic Falls.

I jogged downstairs, magical hair flying behind me. As it turned out, the dyed parts of my hair decided that they weren't done shifting colours, and over the span of 5 hours, they'd become the same dark lilac purple as my eyes. I think it was safe to say it was done now. I hoped. It'd be hard to explain my hair changing by itself. Far too much work.

Not bothering to say goodbye to Jenna, I slipped out the front door. I don't know why I didn't take my window. I'd felt like doing something proper like using an actual entrance instead of being secretive and shady. And I wanted to walk out of the house and have Jenna know it, too. It gave me cruel childish satisfaction, like I was partaking in a small rebellion. She would know I would be ignoring her, though the impact would be regrettably inadequate. We weren't close enough for me to actually do any damage to her feelings, which was disappointing.

What a weird thing to be disappointed by.

The night air hit my face, and would've sent chills through anyone else, but to me it was soothing. It didn't make more aware of the cold; that was something only heat could do. Human heat. Other people's heat, but I didn't miss it; this was my place, being out in the open, unrestrained. No one was around, and I was alone and I was free.

Or I should've felt free.

But try as I might, disquiet still lodged itself in me and I couldn't escape it. I still felt held back. This wasn't freedom, when it should've been the embodiment of it. I was alone, no one was attempting to change me or direct me about, and I could do whatever I wanted without having to hear about it later. What more did I want?

Did I want all of those things? Did I want parental authority who would put me in line and love me in spite of not listening? Did I want someone to care enough about me to do that?

No. Why would I want that? That was a form of restriction. Why would I want to be held back? If there were people like that in my life, then I wouldn't be able to explore every aspect of living. They'd keep me from it and control me, dictate my life. I was sure of it.

But there was an ache in my chest, one that screamed of loneliness, that was contradicting my thoughts. I didn't belong anywhere, and I was, without fail, tossed away plenty. Or I used to be. Now I stuck to myself, with no close relationships because everyone was _boring_. Yet I had the occasional spike of yearning for love and companionship. _Friendship._

Eyes that I hadn't realised I'd closed snapped back open, blazing.

This was stupid. Ridiculous. I didn't want friends. Or need them. They were a weakness. Slowed you down to the pace of a snail.

_"Love_," I scoffed beneath my breath, giving my head a quick jerk.

I was fine alone. Just _fine._

Fresh frustration wound its way in me, worsening when I found myself beginning to think about Damon. I wanted to hang out with _him._ The murderous vampire was good company. He was hilarious and I enjoyed his general presence. He was another reject. Another destroyer.

Yes, surely the guy with no moral bounds understood. He had to.

Self-hatred rooted me down. I was as pathetic as everyone else. Wanting company and understanding. I didn't _need _any of that. I'd survived without those for my entire life.

I was _fine._

All the same, I ended up lashing out on the nearest tree, taking out my anger on it. Relentlessly, I pounded into the hunk of bark, ignoring the pain slicing into my knuckles. I wanted to tear something apart, to mutilate it beyond recognition. I couldn't do that to a tree, no matter how many times I punched at it and scrapped it. It'd still be a bloody tree! A freaking tree that would still be seen as a green thing of nature. I couldn't do anything to change that, defeating my purpose. I wanted to contort it into a horrifying shape that no one wanted to see but it would forever be imprinted in their minds, what they saw every time their bloody eyes closed. I released a primal growl, glaring at the trunk with all my might, like I could force it to be something else.

There was a light rustling noise, the sound of an animal, and I abruptly stopped and stepped back. The pain lacing my hands intensified, but it hardly mattered. The woods were full of animals. Lots and lots of animals.

A grotesque idea pushed its way into my mind, sitting heavily there and refusing to budge. An animal wouldn't be missed… and they weren't trees… or humans. I could… No one would notice and if someone did, they'd figure it'd been another animal. Who would care?

It was only an _animal. _ There was no harm. And besides, I was curious to see what it felt like. What it would feel like to...

I stared down at the bloodied gashes on the backs of my hands in subdued horror. Far less than the normal person should've felt. I was thinking about _killing_ an _animal._ An animal. Because I was _angry_. Because I was _wondering_ what it would be like to kill. Because it'd be _fun_ and new and exhilarating. I'd be in control of that animal's life. I'd be the one deciding how and when it got to die. It'd be my prey, my victim. _I'd _be responsible for the dimming from their eyes. _I'd _be responsible for the fear in their faces. The notion filled me with _eagerness._

On purpose, I stomped my feet into a pile of dead leaves and twigs. Whatever kind the animal was, it startled and scurried away.

And then I was seized by the sudden urge to chase after it.

Oh jeez, oh jeez. Something was wrong with me. Elena and Bonnie had been right. Something was very wrong with my mind. There had to be. Murder wasn't acceptable. I shouldn't be _thinking_ about it, _considering _it. Even if it was only an animal. I should've felt more panic and a whole lot less fascination at the idea. Normal people didn't touch imagining it; they had morals and a conscience and all the things I was void of that made concepts of slaughter forbidden.

An eerie indifference engulfed me. It didn't matter. There was definitely something different about me from the rest, but that didn't make it a bad difference. What did it matter? People like me made the world exciting, and that wasn't bad or wrong. We were the spice in life. We mixed things up, caused ruckus.

I liked ruckus.

A smile slipped onto my face, the blank kind that made kids want to run and hide. Looking back down at my hands, I brushed the pieces of bark off of my wounds, the stinging going over my head. They'd heal eventually, and then it'd be like this incident never happened. After all, I was the only one that knew about it. No one else.

Except the animals. But who would they tell?

_Maybe all the psychiatrists were right,_ I mused as I resumed walking.

Maybe they were on to something…

I shrugged to myself, rubbing the dried blood away from my knuckles. What they thought was irrelevant. They were idiots anyway, the whole lot of them.

My concerns laid elsewhere.

* * *

Damon prowled through the forest. The irritating music and talking was grating on him, and it didn't help that he was starving. High schoolers were idiots and now they were idiots for his taking. All he had to do was get one of them isolated, and they'd be as good as dead. Lucky for them, he wasn't in the mood to prolong their suffering. He'd just feed, maybe leave them barely alive, just to make Stefan nervous. Or kill them and draw attention, scare _everyone._

A tangy scent drifted towards him, one that he was quickly coming to associate with Gwen. There was a tinge of blood mixed in, making the smell more intoxicating. It wasn't something easily forgettable, just like her appearance or bipolar personality.

"Damon," she cheerfully purred, his name rolling off of her lips. He turned towards the silvery sound of her voice, seeing a flash of white and a glint of purple here and there. She'd changed her streaks. In seconds, the odd girl was standing before him, purple eyes seeming to glow with energy. "What are you doing at a lowly high school party?"

He leaned forward and whispered, "To kill." Pulling back, he smirked. She had no idea how serious he was being.

But his condescension quickly dissipated.

"Have to feed those hungers," she replied, nodding all business like. He squinted at her; it was hard to tell if she was joking. Gwen almost looked like she knew something. The right corner of her lip was nearly imperceptibly quirked, like she was mocking him. And the gleam in her eyes, what would that be for? It was reckless, dangerous, taunting. Did she know about him?

But then the look was gone, replaced by a blinding grin and irises so full of mirth that he was caught off guard, his growing suspicion knocked off balance. How was he supposed to figure out if he could trust her when she had mood swings that erased her tell signs?

"I was going to call you, because this 'shin-dig' is boring, but you're just here! Like, maybe we have this psychic thing going on. That could totally happen, right?" Gwen said, words coming out in a string of hyper-ness. God, she was fluttering around him like she held all of the world's energy in her. He wanted to grab her arm and compel her to stop moving, because he was _hungry_ and irritable, but then he remembered that she couldn't be compelled- and there was no vervain smell to her.

Peachy.

"Anyway, since you're here and all, and have nothing better to do, you can attend this so called party with me! Damey, it'll be great in a horrible way." She inhaled, pouting down at her small chest like she couldn't believe it had the nerve to breathe so fast.

"How do you know I have nothing better to do?" he questioned, a sudden wind blowing through him. "I have people to murder, you know."

Gwen rolled her eyes as if that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "Killing has no timed schedule, silly. Unless you _really _need to satisfy that urge at this moment."

At this, she looked straight at him, an unsaid question lying there. Again, he was struck to the core with certainty that she knew more than she let on.

But then that grasp he assumed he was getting on her danced away from him.

That fresh blood smell drifted towards Damon for a second time and he furrowed his brow. He examined Gwen, zeroing in on her knuckles. There were scratches all over them.

Damon grabbed her pale hands, unconsciously licking his lips- in hunger. "Now, how did these all happen?" He ran his fingers across the wounds, none coming back with red. Where was that smell coming from? He wouldn't say he was worried or concerned, but there was something he couldn't place struggling in him. Unease?

No. He wasn't the type. At least not anymore.

"I went mad and my fists found themselves repeatedly impaling a tree trunk," she breezily explained, a lopsided smile on her smooth face, giggles dashing her words.

The easy way she said it should've fired off warning bells in his head, and if it did, he ignored the survival instincts.

"These might leave scars." He had no clue why he was telling her that, like it was important. It wasn't.

Why was he bothering?

"I don't mind. Consider it the proof to my words," she said, laughing with delight at her own mishap. She was very strange.

"Oh? You'll tell people you really did punch a tree?" You might as well write 'INSANE' across your forehead.

"The truth, no matter how crazy, is the truth." She wiggled one of her hands free from his light grasp and wagged a finger at him. "Remember, lying is bad." Gwen laughed again, in on a private joke with herself.

Maybe her company wasn't so bad… and she was sort of adorable.

He dropped her hand as if they'd burned him. Gwen stared up at him with wide, curious eyes, questioning his complete 360 mood.

He restrained his glower, his misplaced anger. It spurred on his hunger, and he had to fight with himself to keep his vampire nature slipping loose. Just like the words, he had no clue why he was keeping himself in check, which served solely to make him angrier.

Gwen's phone rang and, after watching him a moment longer, glanced down to answer it, nose wrinkled in disdain. By the time she looked up, Damon was gone.

He wasn't supposed to be thinking about her being adorable. She was just another expendable human. Or not human. Whatever. She was _expendable_. He was going to leave her anyway. Once he got Katherine.

Guilt rampaged through him. He loved Katherine. He didn't want to consider anyone except her. He didn't want to look at anyone besides her. He should've never thought that Gwen's laugh was adorable, even if it was. What did that say about his love for Katherine? What would she think if she could read his thoughts, see that he'd had one idiotic passing observation?

How would she believe him then when he confessed that he loved her so much it hurt him? That she was his whole world and he'd be forever loyal to her and only her?

"_Damn it!_" he heard someone swear.

Perfect. A distraction.

Damon flashed behind the fallen girl and waited, not noticing anything about her except her wasted appearance. He watched his next victim prop herself up, crawling towards whatever she'd tripped over in a drunken, bumbling way-

And then scramble away. "What the hell?!" she screeched.

She bumped right into him and she swivelled her head in his direction in shock. Before she could scream, he slapped a hand over her mouth and hauled her up, latching onto her neck and ferociously biting down. The sensation of blood flowing into him floored him. It was like a drug, making him feel high and forget all else. When he felt the stream begin to taper, he tossed her body aside, revelling in the energy swirling in him.

Rejuvenated, he was interested in what his victim had snagged her foot on and he stepped over the girl and crouched down. It was a ripped apart animal carcass. Blood was smeared all over the place, and the thing itself was beyond recognition. There were tuffs of fur scattered about, and maybe that was a leg, and maybe that other piece was a heart, but it was hard to tell.

Damon decided it was high time he paid his brother a visit. Especially if he'd upgraded from animal vampire to animal ripper vampire.

* * *

"Damon," Stefan grimly greeted, displeasure written into every wrinkle in his face.

"Hello, brother," he said, smirking at the possible animal serial killer.

"The crow's a bit much, don't you think?" Stefan wryly asked.

Well, Damon didn't perceive it to be as extreme as slashing apart animals. He was much more humane. Nonetheless, his smirk darkened and he hopped off of the window sill. "Wait till you see what I can do with the fog." He'd sure given Elena a fright back at the cemetery.

His little brother eyed him warily, watching like a hawk his every move. Stefan was waiting for him to pounce, to attack. "When'd you get here?"

Damon spread his arms in gesture, "Well, I _couldn't_ miss your first day at school. Your hair's different. I like it." He popped his eyes, smiling.

"It's been 15 years, Damon."

He was going to cut to the chase like that. No fun, Stefan! His brother really did need a lesson about carrying on conversations.

Oh well. Damon could play this out as long as he wanted. This was _his_ game, not Saint Stefan's. "Thank God. I couldn't take another day of the nineties. That horrible grunge look? Did _not_ suit you. Remember, Stefan, it's important to stay away from fads."

Stefan refused to be baited. "Why are you here?"

"I missed my little brother," Damon pouted. It'd been 15 years, after all, and they never seemed to depart on good terms.

"You hate small towns. It's boring. There's nothing for you to do."

Contrary to popular belief, he'd found _plenty _to waste time on. Gwen, for instance. Or the vampire council. Huh. He'd thought there was more for him to do while waiting for Katherine. There'd been Elena, for all of a month, solely because she was a replica of his love. He'd found out quickly that she was the boring one; Gwen was the fun one.

To Stefan, Damon shrugged, back turned as he skimmed the bookshelf. "I've managed to keep myself busy."

"You know, you left that girl alive tonight. That's very clumsy of you."

God, he was jumping all over the place with these tense topics.

"Ah, that could be a problem…" he pointed at his brother, "for you. I'll admit, she wasn't the best dish. She tasted a little acidy and stale from all the drugs I imagine were pumping through her system. Alas, that changes nothing. Let's not forget who the stronger one is."

Stefan clenched his jaw, looking away. "What are you doing here?" he gritted out.

"I could ask you the same question. However, I'm fairly certain your answer can be summed up all into one little word- _Elena._" He pointedly fixed his blue eyes on Stefan, judging just how right he was. Again, Damon questioned how Katherine couldn't see that he'd been the better choice. Stefan was utterly _faithless._

"She took my breath away, Elena. She's a dead ringer for Katherine…" Except nothing like her and she had no spark. She was dull, flat. Katherine was selfish and vivacious. "But is it working, Stefan? Being around her? Being in her _world_? Does it make you feel alive?"

"She's not Katherine," Stefan stiffly replied, the exact reaction Damon was jeering for. If he pressed all the right buttons, he'd send his brother over the edge.

"Well, let's hope not. We both know how that ended," he said, nonchalantly throwing some object from the bookshelf before moving away. "I don't know; have you met Gwen? She's got a fiery darkness, don't you think? With the right push, who knows what I could get her to do." Or ask her and see her willingly agree with no strings attached. She'd help him for the fun of it.

"You stay away from Elena's family," Stefan growled.

"I wouldn't call Gwen family. They don't necessarily get along, do they?" Not from what Damon had seen.

Stefan sniffed the air, like he was catching a scent of suspicion. "Have you met her?"

"Who?" Damon asked, feigning innocence. The original reason he'd decided to drop by popped back into his mind. "Stefan, you haven't, by chance, been performing ripper acts on animals recently, have you?"

Pure puzzlement replaced Stefan's disgust. "What are you talking about?"

"You left a bloody mess behind one of your kills." God, why was Damon having to explain this? His brother should know his own feeding habit.

Unless…

Stefan laughed bitterly. "Is this another one of your tricks, Damon? I'm not going to fall for it."

He honestly had no clue what Damon was talking about, and his little brother was a terrible liar. A shudder worked its way through him. If it wasn't Stefan, then who'd done it?

* * *

"Are you sober yet?" Bonnie asked for the umpteenth time. We'd been sitting at a small booth at Mainline Coffee for an hour, leaving shortly after Vicki's almost dead self was found with a nasty neck wound.

Damon, that rude vampire who'd left me, had better have covered his tracks.

I had no clue why he'd up and disappeared the way he did, and I'd dare say I was miffed.

So here I was, sitting with parental mode Bonnie and a hung-over Caroline, all because Damon Salvatore had put me out of the mood for watching Elena bring down the wrath of Heaven on Jeremy for drinking and drugs.

"No," Caroline moaned, head placed on the table.

I subtly rolled my eyes, "Bonnie, it won't make Caroline any more sober to ask her the same question every 5 minutes."

"Gwen, I have to get Caroline _and_ you home. I have to get me home. Caroline, keep drinking," Bonnie sighed tiredly. Me home? I could walk.

And here was the instance I regretted coming with them.

"Why didn't he go for me? You know, how come the guys that I want never want me?"

I stared at my drink, wishing it was a nice glass of liquor. Not that it would help.

"I'm not touching that," Bonnie said.

"I'm inappropriate. I always say the wrong thing. And… Elena always says the right thing. She doesn't even try! And he just picks her. And she's always the one that everyone picks, for everything. And I try _so_ hard, and… I'm never the one."

Maybe it's because you're shallow and self- centred. Watching her was pathetic. I had better things to do than listen to her gripe about her unlucky love life. Like, they hadn't even noticed my beat up knuckles in all the commotion. Rude. And Jeremy had mentioned some kind of torn up thing beside her. To my great satisfaction, he hadn't been able to tell what it'd been. No one was talking about that, either.

"Caroline," Bonnie sighed, "it's not a competition."

I smirked slowly, getting an idea.

A dawning realization set upon Caroline, "Yes, it is."

"Ugh, I need my own coffee. Be right back," Bonnie said tiredly.

When she was out of hearing range, with me sitting next to her, I leaned down and murmured, "Caroline. The next guy you see, jump his bones. Isn't that your saying? You'll be that guy's first choice. It's definitely a competition. _Definitely_."

"See? Even you agree!" Caroline slurred.

Crumpets, this was easy. With how drunk Caroline was right now, she wouldn't even remember me telling her this, remember me poisoning her mind.

Caroline looked up, settling her gaze on someone in front of her. All things previously said vanished from her eyes, a suggestive glint there now. I looked up, following her lead.

My eyes locked with piercing blue ones.

Damon.

Mr. Comparatively Sexy Vampire Guy.

I stuck my tongue out at him as he waved, wiggling his fingers. Well, he was in a better mood. Acting like he hadn't up and left me the way he did.

Ohhh well.

He tossed me an amused smile. 5 bucks said he'd been eavesdropping.

"I found the _perfect_ guy," I whispered to Caroline, traces of sarcasm in my voice.

I hopped up and skipped to his booth, sliding in beside him so that we were both facing the drunk blonde.

I shot him a dazzling smile, completely edged over, but not really annoyed with him anymore. "First you abandon me when there are animal attacks going around like the plague, and now you show up here."

Damon snorted. "I think whatever's attacking people would be too scared to go near you."

Awwww! He was so flattering. "I know right?!" I enthusiastically yelped. "So, see my_ friend_ over there? Perky, so _very_ annoying, petite blonde. Pretend to be interested in her or don't pretend. Either way, she'll jump your horny bones at the first sign of interest. I'm pretty sure you would benefit from that in more ways than one."

"Such a low opinion of me," Damon chided, eyes glimmering with morbid intrigue.

"Oh confrère, I actually have quite a high opinion of you, Damon. I bet that's a first for you," I replied easily. "So you going to? Either flirt with her or get in bed with her."

It was no surprise that I didn't feel guilty for offering up a girl I knew as a vampire blood bag to be abused and fed on for my own entertainment.

"What's in it for me?" he wondered, and I knew he was thinking why in the world I was offering this proposition. Because what kind of person would do that? If only I could say that he would get a walking blood bag. _That_ might blow things out of proportion…

"A perky blonde that never shuts up?" I suggested with a crooked grin.

The right corner of Damon's mouth pulled up. "Have you no morals?"

He was one to talk.

"Oh I have morals-" very spotty morals, thank you very much "-I'm just a bloody terrible person."

In the end, for some reason, he said no, and maybe my heart plummeted at the idea that perhaps Damon wasn't a mess like me.

And then-

Nothing.

* * *

**_Another one down :) Tell me what you think!_**


	4. Not-So-Subtle Distractions

_**Hey guys! Okay so I love all of you. That's, like, a mandatory message, okay? Everyone who followed, favourited, reviewed, and even just read this story is amazing :) **_

_**To the guest that said Gwen looked like that person from Game of Thrones, I swear I didn't do it on purpose. I don't even watch the show...**_

_**To the other guest regarding paragraph size, I swear I started making a conscious effort to make smaller paragraphs in the next chapter.**_

**_So... here!_**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Not-So-Subtle Distractions**

I didn't realise until the sun was up that I hadn't gone back to the Gilbert house. Had they missed me? Noticed my absence? _Rejoiced _over it? I'd spent the whole night at the Boarding House- okay majority of the night- with Damon. Zach was there, too, but I stayed out of his way, and he didn't know I was there, either.

Damon did a surprisingly grand job at keeping me busy, subtly steering me away from more unsavoury pastimes, though it did wear on me, did make me more impulsive. Of course that didn't stop him from participating in my act of misplacing Zach's items when he turned around and putting them back in different places. It was quite amusing, watching the great- great- great- great and even greater nephew get himself in a tizzy searching.

We played darts with knives, which was fantabulous. Damon actually let me play with knives! And we threw them at some of Stefan's possessions, which was doubly great, and now there were feathers and glass scattered everywhere, and it would be hilarious when Stefan got around to see the mess.

Meeting someone who _joined_ me in reckless activity was magnificent. There was no judgment, no 'don't do that', no bounds. The experience was elating. He let me be _me _and he got to be _him_, minus the blood part because that _had _to be a secret to the grave. Or until he decided he could trust me.

And he thought I hadn't noticed the way he went back and forth in concerns of me. It was painted all over his face. The indecision, the warring suspicion, the faltering confidence that flickered across his handsome blue eyes when his opinion about me switched. And switched. And switched. Maybe he thought I had ulterior motives, but no, I was purely in it for the fun and because I liked Damon's company. That wasn't necessarily ulterior motive. Well… I supposed it could be said that I was _using _him to stay entertained.

Hmm.

He didn't mind.

I wouldn't mind.

But to understand how this all transpired, I'd have to go back to the beginning, when Damon and I were at the table at Mainline Coffee…

I was imagining how fun it would be to play hide- and- go- seek in a mall, because there were so many places to hide and the game would be endless. Unless, that is, you were a vampire with the supernatural ability to peep in on light noises like breathing and cheat. We were joking around, and I kept slipping in bad puns and laughing.

There was an especially funny moment when Damon spit his drink out in response to one of the jokes, and the waiter venomously came over and cleaned it, at which time I 'accidentally' spilled hot chocolate on his front, yelping as the scalding liquid went through the fabric and burned his skin. At that, Damon had taken away the remains of my drink, much to my annoyance.

That same waiter passed us by and hissed, "Hey guys, we're about to close up." And as he started stacking chairs onto the tables, he continuously glared at us, eyes lingering on me and Damon far beyond the required time.

Peculiar.

Or not peculiar. He had to suspect that the spit balls he had no clue where they had come from came from _somewhere._

I looked to the clock, surprise travelling me. Almost 10. My, how the time had gone by. As the male so obviously wanted us I to clear out, I made a point to settle farther down in the booth, snuggling close to Damon. His warmth instantly flew into me, filling me with radiant light. The strange heat chased the cold within me, making a point to reach to the tips of my fingers and toes. It left no place untouched. By the time it was finished, I realised how miserably freezing I was all of the time. I held no heat, and the moment I shifted away from Damon would be the moment I returned to the same cold. I'd forget all about what being warm was like and go back to what I thought was fine- not registering warmth or coolness.

"What are _you_ doing?" Damon questioned.

"Bugging the waiter," I murmured distractedly. Though not uncomfortable, Damon's continuous stream of warmness did make me, well, uncomfortable. I wasn't sure I liked feeling what I assumed was normal body temperature, and I definitely didn't like the way I was beginning to crave it.

In a spastic motion, I hurled myself away from the vampire, earning an inquiring, hate-filled glance from Mr. Waiter.

The residual warmth sapped back into the air, escaping me, and everything felt right.

I looked to the empty table that no longer held Caroline and Bonnie. They'd left some time ago, at 9. Without saying goodbye, thank you very much. "Great," I huffed, as if just noticing. "My ride has abandoned me. Guess I'll have to run home."

Such a tragedy!

I could use the exercise anyway.

… HA!

"I can give you a ride," Damon offered.

What? Did he just say that? He _offered_ to drive me home. What a sur-prise! "DAMON!" I squealed. "That's so nice of you!"

"I take it back," he muttered.

I ignored that. "But I simply _must_ decline!"

Mainly because I'd leave the house the second he drove away. What a waste of time _that_ was. As if I had better things to do in this small town.

What the hay? "I've changed my mind," I announced, jumping up from the squishy seat. "I'll take that ride."

"You see this?" Damon circled his index finger around his straight face. "This is my merry joy at you accepting."

He was so nice.

I grinned at him, patting his head in mock affection. I'd decided I liked him, but that didn't mean I didn't still find him droppable. I would- quite readily, in fact- if I needed to. Right now, he was proving himself useful. Fun. I wouldn't want to rid myself of the amusement. That wouldn't benefit me at all. I'd wait until I started to bore before cutting ties with him.

"Come along, my dear Damey," I said, jerking on his arms a tad bit rougher than necessary. At his non-response, I continued, "You are giving me a ride, are you not?"

Damon, for whatever reason, stared at me with narrowed eyes. Blue eyes that sparkled with intensity. What had I done? Usually I was the one staring people down, the one making people squirm. Now the tables had turned, flipped over and crushed me. Damon was making me wriggle with disquiet.

Why did he keep staring at me with those jaded eyes? I could figure out what everyone else was feeling in concerns of me or anyone; it was a gift of mine. I could discern what Damon thought of me most of the time.

Then he gave me this look.

Several, _several _times.

That was where he lost me. Completely and utterly left me behind. There were so many disgustingly deep emotions circling around in his orbs that it made my skin crawl.

Utterly revolting.

With all his flippant actions and pure natural instincts, I was starting to see the flaws in his façade. The chinks in his armour. Most of the time, it was his eyes that gave him away. He cared. He so obviously cared. Granted, he didn't care about the people he fed off of or killed, but it was evident by all that emotion. I witnessed the quick glimpses of remorse that subconsciously appeared in response to whatever he mulled over. He wasn't the type to kill for sport, for the rush. Maybe he did like it, but he wasn't doing it just for fun. So far, he'd only killed for food.

He _cared._

Discouragement sizzled in my bones, and I quickly squashed down the sensation. Trampled the bitter taste it left.

I traded those for the new sense of distaste. Damon was proving himself to be just as human as everyone else. He had a moral compass somewhere in him, and he was bound to listen to it from time to time. That was why he'd confiscated my hot chocolate. To keep me from causing further damage. To keep me from causing chaos.

That wasn't very _nice_ of him.

Scattering my resentment at yet another person who wanted to control me, I tugged his arms a second time, harder than the last time. He shook his head. "Alright, alright. I'm coming."

Satisfied, I skipped over to the exit of the closed coffee house. In the dimly lit parking lot (it was like Mystic Falls was asking for its citizens to be abducted and murdered), Damon led me to the only other vehicle in the block. A baby blue Camaro.

"Smoking car!" I hooted happily, prancing around it. I would've loved to drive it, except I didn't really do steering. I knew how to drive… illegally, but I didn't hold a driver's license. Miranda and Grayson hadn't let me get one, and I was one of those manic drivers. No, there was no road rage involved. Yes, there was lots of speeding and reckless behaviour. It was all about the rush of racing down the road and avoiding the other cars so as not to crash. One big game.

In my head, I imagined myself coolly opening the vehicle door and smoothly sliding into the leather passenger seat with all the poise I held. That was _so_ me.

What I really did was hop over the door with the glee of a child on Christmas. Damon viewed on with amusement.

When he got positioned in the driver's side and revved the engine, my mobile buzzed. Frowning, I pulled the thing out and stared at the screen. Sometimes, I hated technology with a passion. It allowed for people like Elena to text me: _Clear out. Stefan's over. _

Seriously. Stefan. And did she not realise I wasn't there? 'Clear out' made it sound like I was present in the first place. I threw my phone into my lap, contemplating. I could either heed her words or purposely crash their sleepover and leave afterwards. Which would be more fun?

Decisions, decisions.

"Oh no!" I yelled, startling Damon. "Old Steffy's been invited into the Gilbert house and I can't go there until he leaves. Elena's _banned_ me!"

Haha, I was so funny. I should get an award. I was good at dropping these vampire references.

Apparently Damon didn't find my choice of words odd because, without missing a beat, he said, "Guess we're going to my place then."

Ooooh I felt special. I didn't even get a say in the matter!

Excitement simmered in me. I got to see Damon's house! We'd have fun. Hopefully.

Damon tapped the radio on as he pulled out of the empty lot. It was some oldies rock station that probably reminded of him of his good old days. It was good rock though. I turned up the radio, listening as the previous song faded out and the next began. _Carry on my Wayward Son. _

I perked up, nodding my head along and mouthing the words. I was loathe to admit that I wasn't the best singer, but it helped aid me in being awesome car ride company. I wasn't one of those bad back seat drivers or a person that asked 'are we there yet?' every 5 seconds. I got distracted easily, but I did okay with talking. I just kept telling stories and they told me to shut up.

…

Perhaps saying I was 'awesome' car company was a bit of an exaggeration.

"Masquerading as a man with a reason/ my charade is the event of the season," I mouthed, drumming my hands along to the beat.

"I take it you like Kansas," Damon noted, amusement dancing in his eyes as he periodically glanced at me.

"Here and there," I agreed. "I love 'Can I Tell You'. My tastes are all over the place. Miranda and Grayson forbade me from playing music when all of us 'family' were together because I changed the song too much."

Not that that had anything to do with Kansas.

When we arrived at his house, a grand, big place, the _Eye of the Tiger _started playing.

"No!" I shrieked, swatting his hand away from the keys to prevent him from shutting off the engine. "The song needs to be heard!"

Obediently, Damon dropped his hand with a grin. Smiling quickly at him, I cranked the volume up and hopped out of the car.

It was time to bring back the air guitar.

"Risin' up, back on the street! Did my time, took my chances! With the distance, I'm back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive!"

I took a deep breath, turning to Damon and pointing at him. He had to _sing_!

"So many times, it happens to fast. You trade your passion for glory. Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past. You must fight just to keep them aliiiiiiive."

Damon, you have to join! I motioned to him, dancing over to his side of the car and opening the door.

He looked at me, shrugged, and then his voice rendered me unable to sing.

"It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight! Risin' up to the challenge of our riiiiival! And the last known survivour stalks his prey in the night, and he's watchin' us all with the eyyyyyyyyeeee- of the tiger!"

Bloody crumpets. That was Damon. The vampire had a beautiful voice.

I'd never pegged him for it.

"Face to face, out in the heeee-eeat. Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry. They stack the odds, still we take to the street. For the kill with the skill to survive."

I couldn't seem to stop grinning as I spun around and brought two fingers up to make the 'I'm watching you' sign.

Singing my heart out with Damon in a dark driveway was fun!

"It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight! Risin' up to the challenge of our riiiiival! And the last known survivour stalks his prey in the night, and he's watchin' us all with the eyyyyyyyyeeee- of the tiger!"

I laughed in delight when Damon prowled over to me and twirled me.

"Risin' up, straight to the top! Had the guts, go the glory! Went the distance, now I'm not goonnna stop! Just a man with the will to surrrvvive!"

Damon was standing very close to me, engaging me in one of those corny dances that in no way went with the song.

"It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight! Risin' up to the challenge of our riiiiival! And the last known survivour stalks his prey in the night, and he's watchin' us all with the eyyyyyyyyeeee- of the tiger!"

"The eye of the tiiiiigeeer!" I sang crazily at the finish.

Damon was staring at me, breathing heavily. He had this wild, free grin on his face that made him look like a teenager. His blue eyes were alight with liveliness, with the promise of eternal youth. For some reason, the sight of him like that made me giddy.

I burst into loud laughter, Damon following shortly after. His heady laughter disappeared before mine and I leaned against his car, observing his yet again pensive features. I quirked an eyebrow, missing the light-hearted atmosphere already. Somehow, Damon had managed to make things serious.

_Boring._ Couldn't he just for once not do that? Why did he have to flip into adult, old vampire mode like that?

It reminded me that he wasn't completely like me. He was just another dull, moral guy.

Aggravation taunted me. He should be on my level. He was a _killer_. Why did he feel this remorse? Why did he keep disappearing into his mind, into things that he evidently cared about? Didn't he understand?

He _had_ to. Those emotions put in restrictions on your life. Didn't he know? Wasn't he miserable with himself, having to deal with carrying about guilt for the lives he took? It bothered him when he allowed himself to think about it. It was undeniable.

Why did he choose to live with all of that?

Damon suddenly gallantly swept an arm back, in the direction of his home. "Allow me to show you the way to my humble abode," he said, oozing so much politeness that it was palpable.

Rolling my eyes, I slipped my hand in his outstretched one. His larger hand enveloped my slender fingers, and again I found warmth sinking into me. There was no spark. Maybe there would never be a spark. Because I didn't like anyone.

"You owe me that bottle of bourbon!" I remembered, brightening. I pushed away my disdain, filing it away so I could forget.

Damon snorted, "Like I'm actually going to give you a whole bottle of my prized bourbon."

"A deal is a deal is a deal; a promise is a promise is a promise," I murmured, the jingle playing in my head. Where had I heard that before? Didn't matter. "You don't break your word," I said, distemper trickling into my tone. Giving your word is a promise. You can't break promises. You don't break promises. Deals are deals. Deal breakers don't win.

"I'll end up with a drink by the end of the night," I rigidly told him, flexing my fingers.

_Liar, liar, liar_, my mind chanted. _Damon's a liar. Liar, liar, liar. _

If I gave my word, I stuck to it. I lied all the time, but I kept my promises.

He turned to me, oblivious to my inner ramblings. "Is that a bet?" An infuriating smirk danced at his lips. My fingers twitched in response. This wasn't a joke. He'd broken his word. It wasn't funny. We'd see who was laughing if I stabbed him. _I'd _be laughing.

But fine. I'd play. It would be a bet.

My tongue darted out to wet my lips. "It is now. By 12 am, a bottle of any alcohol shall be in my hands."

He would lose, I would win.

Liars never won.

"If I win and you lose, you have to kiss me. Full on kiss. On the lips."

He was asking for a kiss? Jeez. I raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "That's all?" I flatly questioned. I had no interest in kissing him in the first place. Kisses meant nothing to me, so it wasn't that bad. He could've done better...

"Nah-uh. I wasn't done yet. We kiss in front of all of your friends-" I held up a hand to stop him.

"I don't have friends," I disagreed.

"Acquaintances," he corrected, giving me a look. "Then when your _acquaintances _leave and if Stefan is the only one left, freak out and push me away. Pretend to be scared and then get all confused and go between those two."

I smirked darkly, liking his plan. My frustration vanished. Damon was going to mess with Stefan by making it seem like I was being compelled and he was using me. And Damon thought that I was a crazy human who was willing to go along with it blindly.

Silly, silly vampire.

"I like the way you think," I whispered. Anticipation bubbled up in me. The bet would be a win-win. Not that I was worried about losing. _Word breakers_ lost. "My turn."

I formulated my idea. "If _I_ win, you have to burst in during my history class tomorrow and act like a lunatic. Yell the craziest thing you can think of and rush up to the teacher- William Tanner- and kick him hard."

A physical taste of his own medicine. Wasn't the best deal, because he deserved far worse, but it would do. I'd get a hoot out of it.

"Oh oh oh you should bring a bowl of rotten food. Make it terrible stuff, you know, and dump it over someone's head. Stefan is in my class. Dump it on his, if you like. But I'm off limits, got it?"

Tomorrow would certainly be fun.

"You are the embodiment of evil, Miss Gwyneth," Damon commented in an old fashioned drawl. There was that look again. The wariness. The uncertainty. He had no clue what he was getting into or what I was capable of.

"And don't I know it," I quipped. "Do we have a deal, Mister Salvatore?"

"Deal."

We shook hands.

* * *

The Salvatore Boarding House was astounding. The house had antique charm, only built sometime in the mid- 1900s. Everything was updated, of course, but I rather enjoyed the original décor that was mixed into the newer furnishing.

Damon had finally managed to drag me into the little parlour area, making sure I wasn't too loud. Something about not wanting Zach to see me. Whatever. He'd even poured two shots of bourbon (how nice of him) in an effort to distract me. I was not ashamed to say that it worked for the time being. Like a speeding bullet, I swallowed down my shot and then snaked my hand around Damon's arm to steal his. When Damon looked up again, his shot glass was empty and exactly where he'd set it down.

He gaped at me with accusing eyes. "You're like a viper."

I smirked. "What can I say? I'm fast like that."

"Unnaturally quick is more like it," he replied, pouring another round.

"Fine. I shall drink at the pace of a snail, if you like." Slowly, I raised the glass to my lips, taking the tiniest of sips. "How's that for you?"

As I messed with him and his drinking habits, a plan formed in my head. Damon hadn't been home in- give or take- 15 years. It was in the way he looked around the house, like he was searching for any changes. That made it evident that it'd been quite a while. You wouldn't do that if it'd only been a couple of years. No, you did that only if it'd been more than a couple of years. A family with only one survivour that knew Stefan and Damon wouldn't go switching things up. It'd stay the same, so it'd have to be a long time for Damon to wonder. 15 years.

My point being: He wouldn't remember the nooks and crannies of the house. There would be hiding places that he wasn't aware of. Given his inattention to the details of his house (the look over he gave the place wasn't the best), he definitely had no clue. All I had to do was hide a couple bottles in wherever we'd be frequenting and, assuming he hadn't recovered them all, pull one out right before the clock struck 12.

Easy-peasy.

Back in the real world, Damon was eyeing me suspiciously. "You came up with a plan to win, didn't you?"

I snorted, "You know that's right." I leaned back, running my fingers over the bottle collection he had in the bar. "It all starts with these bottles."

I'd probably hide one or two in easy spots. The fridge, behind a couch cushion. It'd throw him off and make him think he'd found them all. Smaller bottles (we'd never specified size) could be hidden in those hidden compartments I was sure existed and in drawers.

Damon scrunched his nose up, as if realising this might be harder than he'd originally anticipated. "What? You didn't think I'd blindly walk into this bet, did you, Damey?" I mockingly asked. The deal breaker would lose. Lose, lose, _lose._

"Whatever, Winnie. All I have to do is make sure that you're not holding a bottle when the next day starts. I'd say my job is easy. There's no way you can beat me."

"But can't I?" I innocently inquired.

Damon looked away from me, and I took the opportunity to hide a bottle beneath the couch cushion, and another hid behind a throw pillow. Perfect. It didn't look like I'd done a thing. I moved to grab two more bottles.

Holding it, Damon turned back around. "What're you doing?"

"Ye of little trust!" I exclaimed, holding my hand over my heart in mock hurt.

"It's ye of little faith," Damon said in miffed amusement.

I waved off his correction, "Same difference." I drained the shot.

Oooh. "Damey! Do you have straws in this house?"

He blinked. "Yeah, why?"

I blinked back at him. "Because I want one."

"But why?"

"Because I want to stab it into your neck and drink your blood," I deadpanned. At his 'are- you- serious' look, I burst into bubbly laughter. "Damon, can I have a straw?"

"BUT _why_?" he stressed.

Yes why indeed. "Why are you being so stubbourn? Why do people ever need bloody straws?" Take a whack at it, Sherlock.

"Who uses the word bloody?"

"I do!" I fired back. "Can I have my straw now?"

Could he just listen so I could figure out where the kitchen was?

Fed up with my persistence, he got up with an exaggerated sigh. "FINE!"

"I don't get a tour?" I shouted, scurrying after him.

"Not yet!" he yelled back. Crumpets! With the way he was screaming, you'd think we were on opposite ends of the world. Was it necessary to break my ear drums? And what happened to not wanting to wake Zach?

Whatever.

"I deserve to know the location of the kitchen!" I announced, holding tight to a small bottle of vodka and one of whiskey.

Time- 11:05 pm.

His house was huge. I could've fit 4 copies of Elena's home in this one. The kitchen was roughly half the size of the living/parlour room. Which translated into the size of one whopping master bedroom. Good crabs, with all this space, these vampires had better cook and make magnificent food.

Which reminded me.

"I'm hungry," I happily declared. I bounced over to the fridge and swung the door open. Yes! It was fully stocked!

…

With _healthy_ food.

Shrugging, I stuffed a small bottle of alcohol behind a package of greens.

"Doesn't Zachary Salvatore have junk food? Has he _heard_ of junk food?" I grumbled whilst scouring the fridge for the good stuff. Maybe there was ice cream.

With haste, I shut the fridge and opened the freezer compartment. My eyes landed on a large tub of delicious looking vanilla ice cream. Bingo!

"Ice cream!" I shrieked, practically jumping for joy as I tossed it onto the island counter. Damon slammed a hand over my mouth. Reproachfully, I licked his palm. He shot me a grossed out look and took his hand back. "You have ice cream! We're eating ice cream! Ooohh! We can make vodka floats! Have you ever had a vodka float? I bet you they're delicious!"

Vampires didn't need to eat, but he would be devouring this.

How did he even walk in the sun? He should've been ashes. Ashes to ashes.

Oh.

Oh!

_Of course!_

The gaudy ring that looked okay on his finger kept him from burning. Stefan had the same kind, except he looked terrible with it. Duh. Only Damon could rock the middle finger ring thing the Salvatore brothers had going on. Like, who'd chosen those daylight rings for them? Worst fashion choice _ever._

Meh… not so bad, I supposed, changing my mind.

Busily, I randomly opened cabinets in search of bowls. "What kind of organization system is this, Damon? Zach's kitchen is terrible. You need better house-keeping."

After opening one door, I gave up. We had a thing of ice cream. It was a container itself. Spoons were what was required! Silly me, trying to complicate things.

"I want some bloody spoons! That's it!" I complained, sliding a drawer shut. I rounded on Damon. Straight-faced, I said, "I desperately want to tear your kitchen apart."

I did want to. The urge was growing on me by the minute. I jerked open all the drawers I passed, leaving them open as a maze. Damon watched in subdued nervousness. A reasonable response, I supposed. He didn't know me all too well, so he couldn't be blamed. Unfortunately for him, he'd be quite surprised when I had a random mood swing.

At the next one I opened, I feigned confused shock and raised an eyebrow. Delicately, I took out one of the wooden stakes to display to Damon. "Umm…. Why does this house have these? Are you old-fashioned with your virgin murders? Stakes are so, like, Jack the Ripper old."

He scowled at the weapon in distaste, attempting to draw up a lie. "Haven't you heard of marshmallow roasting?" he questioned, confiscating it because I was tossing it around in the air.

Not taking the bait, I quipped, "Yes, with thin metal rods, not oddly sharpened pieces of wood. Not that I've ever participated in the activity." Damon threw the offensive item back into the drawer it came from, bumping it shut with a hip. Lost in thought, I absently commented, "Miranda and Grayson never let me do campfire stuff."

The Gilberts had gone camping once. They would've left me at the house, but they thought I'd burn the place down. So they brought me and sentenced me to tent arrest while Jeremy and Elena got to go fishing and exploring. They didn't even enjoy it as much as I would've. If Miranda and Grayson had given me the _chance,_ maybe the entire family wouldn't have gotten poison ivy. Served them right. Though personally, I still thought they deserved more than that.

WELL. They were dead now so.

Not commenting on my offhanded remark, the vampire gracefully strode to a drawer next to the fridge and slid it open, producing two spoons. "Here you are, madam."

That irritated me more than it should have. The whole time I was searching, he knew. He knew and he let me look like an idiot. Narrowing my eyes at him, I snatched a spoon from his grasp. Momentarily, a devious idea launched through my head, causing me to reflexively tighten my grip on the silver utensil I was holding. After this, I was rather certain that the element of surprise should never be on my side. But it nearly always was, and denying temptations 24/7 was a rather hard thing to do.

Forcing my grip on the spoon to relax, I wrenched the frozen lid off of the ice cream container. I stabbed the hardened ice cream with the silver-ware piece, clapping my hands together. "Okay, Damey, here's the game plan: We need to make a little vanilla volcano. We pour the vodka into the volcano opening and it 'spews' out. Good plan, right? I completely agree. Someone should give me a prize for all my hard brain storming."

I locked eyes with Damon, grinning freely. I guessed he'd decided to forego all the warnings his brain fired off at him, because he smiled back, licking his lips in anticipation. Because eating ice cream was the height of living, apparently. "Alright, so how much do we have to eat before getting to the good part?"

And by good part, I assumed he meant the 'pour vodka in' step of the plan. Or, at least that was original plan. We might've been on different pages; for all I knew, the plan he was referring to was one where he tore my throat out and spilled my blood.

What would ice cream and blood taste like to a vampire?

On the subject of food, the corners of my lips involuntarily quirked up. For some reason, I had the mind to think that a good prank would be switching hot sauce with blood. Haha…

"We have to make a pit in the centre that almost hits the bottom. Are you ready for that kind of eating?" I leaned over the counter, closer to Damon's face. "Can you… _stomach _it?"

There was a suspended pause in which the male opposite me stared at me, hooded gaze flickering between my purple orbs and my lips. Why was he doing that? And what was with that look? Annoyance brushed me. Releasing a breath, I leaned back, abruptly shoving one of those pesky open drawers shut. A ring resounded through the silence. If Damon was startled, he didn't show it. He just stared at me.

_Boring._

_ Irritating. _

Suddenly, I was itching for a different activity. Damon was just boring. Boring Damon, the same as everyone else. I needed a chase. Oh, where were the bunnies when I needed them? Getting drained of their blood by Saint Stefan, most likely.

I internally pouted; Stefan was taking all the game away. If there were no animals, who knew what I might become? Mystic Falls would have a gigantic problem. Oh no!

I popped the spoon out of its hole in the untouched container, laughing when a chunk launched itself onto the floor.

A food fight would be interesting.

I smashed another cupboard door shut, scraping my hand in the process. I yelped as pain singed my knuckles in waves. I shook my hand, bringing it to my lips. I'd forgotten all about the scratches caused by punching that tree. It hadn't been a good outlet. It seemed that mutilation was the name of that game.

Spurred on further, I made a movement to close a third one with the same level of force, but Damon stopped me by grabbing my wrist and holding firmly, but not hard enough to hurt. "Would you calm down and eat some ice cream? I don't need you angrily shutting things and disturbing Zach in his room," he said, gripping tightly.

_Don't do this, don't do that._

Just like everyone else.

At least he wasn't giving me those pesky odd looks.

My lips sprang into a grin and I relaxed my stiff frame, repressing the urge to jump away from him. "Jeez, Damey, you're making me sound like I'm doing something illegal. I'm a little bored is all. You, murderer-for-hire, should know how that can get. Would you do me a favour and let go before you cut off the circulation of blood?" I raised my unrestrained hand. "Scout's honor that I won't touch a thing."

I'd find something else to destroy.

Seeing as he wasn't completely sold, I chimed, "I don't break my wooorrrd! Might I add, unlike certain people."

Namely you, Mister Damon Salvatore. Turning our deal into a bloody bet.

Rude, rude, rude!

He rolled his eyes like he was aware of what I was thinking, but let go. He scooted back from me and I was grateful for the space. Bodily contact wasn't necessarily my area. I brought my arm in, close to my chest, protectively rubbing my wrist. Damon hadn't hurt me, but phantom pains were dancing around the bone like he had. I shot a reproachful glower at the counter. Now wasn't the time to be having flashbacks of the past. The past was the past for a reason!

_The past is dust… the present is now… and the future is for the unknown..._ I thought, singing the lines in my head.

"Where did you hear that?" Damon wondered.

… Or maybe I'd said the verses aloud. I frowned. "I'm not sure," I murmured, repeating the lines as if that would make me recall who'd said them. I glanced at the vampire with unfocused eyes, fresh frustration taking hold. "I can't remember," I ground out.

Why couldn't I remember?

"Oh well!" I said, smiling brightly. I reached out and scooped a piece of ice cream into my mouth. "For future reference, I'm not normally this crazy."

No, that was a LIE.

Damon jutted his lower lip out in a pout. "But being crazy makes it so much easier for me to murder you." He followed my lead, digging into the centre of the ice cream tub.

"Damey, we already touched upon this subject," I told him, accusingly pointing my ice cream ridden spoon at the vampire. "You aren't going to kill me, and I'm confident in that fact. You can't live without this mess." I pointed to myself. "You, you're just an obsessed stalker. Slipping a number into my pocket? Ooh, warning signs!" I widened my eyes in mock fear before giving way to a grin.

"You're an obsessed fan girl," he commented dismissively. "I know I'm irresistible, but creating delusions such as me chasing after you isn't healthy. You should see someone about that, Winnie."

Amusement sprang through me, lighting me up.

Damon turned his back and opening a drawer, and I stood on my tippy-toes in a futile attempt to see what he was doing. He bestowed 2 industrial sized spoons, to which I eagerly reached for. I wanted a big spoon!

I held out a hand like a child, snatching the air to tell him to fork it over. Damon, however, refused and stretched it beyond my limited range. I'd have to move to get it… "Gimme," I whined, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

"Maybe I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"My house, my rules."

Oh, his house, his rules. _Please._

Lightning fast, I snatched one of them from his hand. Cheerfully, I took a bite of ice cream, mood contradicting my growled, "I don't play by your rules."

Damon blinked at me, like he was suffering from a mental break of shock. "You move so fast," he muttered.

"You're inhumanely strong!" I cried dramatically, cackling. "Say it Damon, say it. What am I? A vampire!" I busted into laughter. "I- I spp—parkle in the sun!"

Oh, Twilight!

"That reminds me, Damon. We should watch Twilight. That movie is _so_ good for a laugh," I suggested.

"Twilight. Is that the fat vampire book with the flat character and the creepy stalker vampire? What's his name? Edmund? Ed- something."

"Edward Cullen, the constipated vampire that watches the lovely, emotionless Bella while she sleeps," I agreed.

"How is that book a bestseller?"

I raised my hands into the air. "That's what I'm saying!"

We ate some more in silence, only taking a minute for me to grow bored and on edge at the lack of commotion. I'd probably start banging things around again. I wanted to mess with Zach or something. Or trash Stefan's room. Or see Damon's room!

A sudden thought came to me and I snickered, "15 minutes until midnight. You might want to get a crack on finding the bottles I hid." A total of 3. I was so winging this whole bet.

Damon flitted away from the counter, going to check his stash of alcohol in the parlour. Drops of off- white liquid splattered onto the floor. He'd taken the spoon with him.

I laughed some more.

"Where the kelp-" _he didn't say kelp "-_did all of my alcohol go?" Damon yelled in distress. Yeah, maybe I'd displaced more than 3. That didn't mean I'd _hidden _them all.

"It's alllll part of the plll-an to win," I drawled. I was getting a tour of this mansion after I won. And we'd be eating that vodka float, as it clearly wasn't happening yet.

Damon stormed back into the kitchen, waving his dripping spoon about. "Where did you hide them?" he demanded.

"Futile attempts, my friend, futile attempts. My lips are sealed." And to prove it, I made a motion of zipping my mouth shut.

The vampire shot me a look.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, spoil sport, I advise that you spend the remaining time searching for bottles I've _expertly_ hidden from you."

Maybe it'd keep him busy enough that I'd end up with the bottle by chance. I made a show of nonchalance by devouring a scoop of vanilla.

The vampire stalked to the living room. I could hear him rummaging around. "Really, Winnie?" he called. "Hiding one behind the pillow on the couch?"

"I was warming up!" I defended.

He snorted. "Was the one beneath the couch a warm up, too?"

"Shut your trap, Salvatore!" I hollered. "You'll never find the others!" Meaning the one in the fridge.

…

Bloody terrible hiding spots.

_It's like he's on an Easter Egg Hunt,_ I thought in amusement.

Oooh!

Idea!

"We're holding an Easter Egg Hunt in this maze of a house. When April- if I can wait that long- comes around, you and me and possibly others are having a gigantic candy treasure search."

I could invite Matt and Jeremy and Elena and Caroline and Bonnie and even Stefan. I was feeling generous. They'd have to provide an entrance fee, of course. One that consisted of sweets meant for my undivided pleasure.

Wait!

"No! I take it back. We can have a _Halloween_ Hunt! An all-nighter that consists of scary movies- Scream, Coraline, because that's a classic, Chucky, Saw, Nightmare on Elm Street- the works- _and_ then a 3 am candy hunt. This is after going trick- or- treating, of course."

Couldn't leave that out. This was the first year I'd be allowed to go trick-or-treating without having to sneak out of the house. Personally, I was excited to try it out. It'd be part of my birthday present to myself, since that was the only gift I ever got.

Damon made a sound to inject a comment, but I ignored him.

"When we trick- or- treat, we can be a duo. Batgirl and Robin. We all know you'd be the side-kick; I'm the ring leader. Or- NO! We should be villains, or should I say the misunderstood people on the wrong side of the law. Because the villain is the hero in their own mind. Or we could be a devil and angel- though neither of us fit the bill for an angel role- except that we're both stunningly beautiful. Maybe a fallen angel. Those are supposed to be, like, the ones that fell from grace, right-"

My vampire acquaintance and possible candidate for friend appeared in front of me, unnaturally quick. He wasn't being very covert with his vampirism. Someone should shame him. There was a satisfied smirk on his face. Because I'd called him beautiful. Cocky biscuit face. I'd accidentally boosted his already inflated ego.

Playing it cool, I patted his cheek. "Yes, Damon, I did call you beautiful. There's no denying that. Doesn't mean I'm attracted to you."

And I still wasn't getting that spark. There was an occasional rise of something in the pit of my stomach, but that only happened when he said something funny. I mean, I'd never experienced it before, so I assumed it was born from entertainment.

"Gwyneth!" he whisper-shouted, gasping in a scandalised way. "I wasn't even thinking about that." He wiggled his eyebrows in an absurd way. "But I'm glad to know what way your mind wanders." I laughed, shaking my head at him as his smile widened.

"Anyway," he continued, fixing me with that intense stare of his, "what makes you think I'll stick around long enough to do all that stuff?"

It was almost menacing, the way he towered over me as I leaned back on the counter. Almost. Briefly, I questioned if he was trying to compel me again, but his pupils weren't doing that weird dilating thing. This was just him, asking me a question.

"Well, honestly, I haven't really thought that far into the future. I'm more of a here- and- now type of person. If you leave, I'll be rather bored again. Bad things happen when I get bored," I added, a little crease between my brow.

What would I do if Damon left? I was depending on him for entertainment at the moment. Who would I turn to when and if he skipped town? He'd be out enjoying his life and I'd be stuck here. Why didn't I just leave already? I wanted to travel, I could leave. Nothing was keeping me here except myself and a feeling.

Feelings were becoming rather pesky.

I smiled brightly, switching the subject. "Imagine what this place would look like in December! Christmas decorations, a gigantic tree in the parlour! It'd be great, Damey! You should at least stick around until New Year's!" I happily gushed.

The multi-coloured blue speckles in his eyes twinkled with amusement as he gave me my space. "Does your mind ever stay in one place for more than a couple of seconds?"

"I'm an undiagnosed ADHD," I informed, sounding completely serious. Damon snorted. Hey, for all I know, it could've been true. For all their complaining about my attention span, Miranda and Grayson had never gotten me checked out.

"10 more minutes before I've taken the gold!" I announced. "There's no more bottles in there, by the way." Or at least it was pointless to continue looking for things I hadn't hidden.

He groaned. "Thank God, because I still had half the room to scourge through."

"Someone's lazy," I sniggered. Vampires and laziness didn't mix. They were supposed to be the icon of eternal youth.

…

Then again, youth was lazy nowadays.

"On a time crunch," Damon corrected.

"Potato, tomato."

"That is so not how the phrase goes."

"It is now." Time for a change in gears. "We should put a bucket of water-" I meant vervain "- over Steffy's door so that when he opens it, the water will douse him. Then we can laugh maniacally at his wet torment."

Better idea: we could fill the bucket with blood that he couldn't drink because he'd sworn off the human goods and I'd die guffawing at his suffering.

If only I could say that without causing a riot.

"Excellent idea, Winnie. We'll do just that, but for now- do stop trying to distract me."

Eek, caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

"Uh, rude! I wasn't trying to distract you, blue-eyed idiot." I smirked when he spared me a glare. "I think that can be another nickname, don't you? Damey the Blue-Eyed Idiot. I like it. I might change your mobile name to that. Right now it's under Captain Sadistic. In all _caps_ because you're special like that. That reminds me: I need a picture of you. I'll get it in 5 minutes. When I win."

I had to admit, I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked this much. It was sort of nice. Damon wasn't cutting me off or telling me to shut up or rolling his eyes. He just listened with amusement. I could probably say anything I wanted to around him. Like, if I ranted about airplanes and how I'd never been on one, he'd let me. Oh, that'd be sweet! Someone who let me talk! I eyed Damon with subdued appreciation.

Jeez, he really was giving me massive mood swings.

I think I might've preferred my usual uncaring nature. He was bringing out annoyances I didn't even know I carried.

Annoyances. That's what these emotions were.

All annoyances.

"You hid a bottle in the fridge? Who does that to vodka?!" Damon questioned. "That has got to be one of the worst spots ever."

Okay so he'd _ignored _everything I'd said. Biscuit head! It'd have been nicer if he'd listened but who was I to complain?

"Then why did it take so long for you to find it?" I responded sweetly, hopping onto the counter and staring at him harshly.

"Because I wasn't trying?"

"Excuses, excuses. Blue Eyes, you've to try harder than that. Honestly, I expected more out of you. The clock is ticking down to the moment we eat my victory vodka float." I listed my head to the side, waiting for him to make a move. "3 minutes."

Well, the move he gave me was not the move I expected.

Everything was suddenly upside-down. Hmm… that was odd. Damon was hanging off of the ground like a bat. Why would he suddenly be like that? Mmm… the furniture was all wrong side up. Or down. Or? What?

Had Damon… _slung_ me over his shoulder?

"Put me down you bloody crap face!" I screeched. My loose white hair swung from side to side as he walked down the kitchen hall, back into his living room.

"Bloody crap face?" Damon repeated, snorting. "What's with you and your supposed insults? Even a 2 year old could come up with something better than that."

Um. Excuse him. "I'm more of a slow-boil kind of gal. So put _me _DOWN!" I hissed vehemently. "OR you'll see just how terrible I can be!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure your insults are terrible," he scoffed.

"Mister Salvatore! Get your _fat_ head out of your arse or I'll shove it farther into it!" I yelled, wiggling like a worm in his firm hold. He readjusted his hold, hands slipping to my mid-thighs rather than staying in their place on the bend of my knees. What was with that? He should move them. Yes. He needed to move them. This situation was a little strange. I didn't like strange situations. No, no, no.

"I do not have a fat head!" Said the liar. He needed to face the facts.

"Um, can you put me down now? The blood is rushing to my head."

"Yeah, after I win."

Eek. Eek.

EEP.

Hands. Hands. Warm. Could he please readjust his hands?

Ah, good… Still on my thighs, at least. Closer to my knees.

_Stay,_ I ordered mentally. If he refused to put me down, the paws needed to stay down.

He wasn't moving.

Damon was just standing awkwardly (probably with a satisfied smirk) with me slung over his shoulder like it was an everyday occurrence in the centre of his living room.

_Seriously._

"You cheat! NO manhandling allowed!" I roared furiously.

"It wasn't in the rules and guidelines booklet," Damon stated cheerfully. I felt him remove a hand and imagined him holding a finger up. "Besides, you're not a man."

Jeez, he just had to point out the fine print didn't he?

"NO PERSON-HANDLING ALLOWED!" I corrected in annoyance.

"Guess you're no longer a person, then."

I stared flatly at his back. He was just asking for a stake to the heart.

I pounded on the backs of his legs. I tried kicking my legs against his shoulder, but it only served to make him reinforce his grip.

"Damey!" I whined, "It's not polite to purposely allow excessive amounts of blood to flow into one's brains!"

Beneath my legs, his shoulders rose and dipped in a shrug. "Never said I was polite. Charming? Definitely."

"Charming?" I snorted derisively. "This is the polar opposite of charming, Damon! You're supposed to be a gentleman!"

Jeez, you're, like, 167 years old. Why do I have to tell you this? I'm 16! Where was his inner Mister Salvatore, the chivalrous guy that probably existed in 1864? Had vampirism taken his soul? That'd be so tragic! HA.

"I am a total gentleman. 2 minutes," he retorted happily. NO!

If I could just swing my body forward and then reach the bottle… Too bad I couldn't levitate… That'd be cool…

Or a magic carpet like Aladdin. Magic carpets were fun. Or would be. Not that I'd ever been on one. Because, unfortunately, they didn't bloody exist.

"2 minutes until I viciously and _joyously_ gouge your eyes out!" I spat.

What happened next was as unexpected as my streaks shifting to purple. There was a strange tugging in my stomach and then the ground began to look a bit farther away, like I was being pushed up.

…

Okay… Don't freak out. Remain calm, blah, blah, blah.

Like I was the type to freak out in the first place.

Pffft.

This was cool, I had to admit. Not everyone could go about and tell people 'I can levitate.' I was special like that.

"You're feisty. I like it," Damon stated pleasantly, still not moving.

"Who said I wanted you to like me?" I coldly inquired. "Besides, you didn't notice before, Blue Eyes? I'm awesome. You're just now seeing it because your observation skills suck."

I felt like a feather, rising slow and steady, the alcohol table coming closer to my reach. Had it not been for the hot coil in my stomach, I probably wouldn't have noticed the sensation.

"My observation skills do not suck," he insisted, ignoring my first cold comment.

Jeez, if I were a killer Damon would be an easy target. He just disregarded every warning sign at every turn.

"Oh really? How many drawers are there in your kitchen?" Bet he couldn't answer that! There were 15!

"15," he answered instantly and blandly.

"HA! There are- oh. Wait," I cut myself off to prevent further humiliation. Damon cackled. That biscuit head.

I guess I had to give him it. It'd been easy to notice. Not a hard enough question.

Better luck next time.

Lots of things were easy to notice. For instance, I knew Damon's favourite colour was alternating between black and a vibrant sky blue. The blue better reflected him, but the black was part of his barrier. Part of his façade, which was him pretending to be a monster. He had the dreadful moral compass; he cared about his brother and he'd cared about that Katerina Petrova.

How terrible was that?

"Fine," I said to him before too much time went by. "Well I bet you don't pick up on everything."

"Mhmm…" Damon hummed.

"What?" I quickly questioned, having missed something. What had I missed? Momentarily, I cursed my curiosity, because it meant Damon was winning… whatever this was.

But in other news, I was only centimetres from getting my bottle of winner's whiskey.

"I don't know if we're at that stage in our _relationship _yet," Damon whispered in an amusingly seductive voice. Silly vampire; didn't he know these things didn't work on me?

"What relationship, Damon?" I asked.

Relationships meant that you were either close to someone or were using each other and getting benefits out of it. Neither of those things defined Damon and I. I mean, I was using him, but I doubted he was using me. We were just… well, Damon and then me. Separate. Not friends.

I grabbed the bottle I was reaching for. The moment I seized the whiskey, I started to fall. Gravity pulled down at me as whatever magical powers I had safely delivered me to my previous position. The tugging in my stomach dissipated and I felt strangely parched and famished.

"Friend_ship_ is a relation_ship_," Damon pointed out.

Oh? He thought this was friendship? Is this what friends did? It was funny, I'd assumed friendship was like Elena and Bonnie's. They just giggled away in Elena's room until the wee hours, talking about boys and this and that and more boys, and leaving me out of things. Did this mean Damon and I would go about ignoring others? Well, I didn't want to be friends. I was fine without friends. If we were friends, it meant I'd have to be worrying about him. I'd seen Elena be all sad and concerned over Caroline and Bonnie. What a waste, those emotions. I wasn't the sort to really care… or empathise. Being friends would be a hassle. I'd have to _pretend_ I thought about his well-being and ask him how he was and give him bloody advice.

I'd be the worst friend in the world.

I mentally shrugged. Let Damon think whatever he wanted to think about this.

But I couldn't resist saying, "I never said I wanted to be your friend."

"Then I want to be yours."

_I want to be yours._

5 simple words had such an impact. How was that possible?

Damon Salvatore had knocked me off guard.

He actually wanted to be my friend. He was completely serious about it.

I gaped, a strange surge of happiness flowing through me. No… something more than happiness… what was more? What is it called? _Affection_? Was this what affection felt like? Sunshine bursting through you?

I shuddered slightly.

But… he wanted to be friends… I allowed myself a tiny grin.

Fine.

We'd be friends.

…

My stomach growled much too loudly.

When was the last time I'd had something to eat?

"Don't worry, we can chow down after I win. Which is only a minute away, if you didn't know. I really do want to try out that vodka float…"

Yes, you've had your entire life since 1842 to try it and you haven't. What does that say about you and being adventurous?

"Whatever, Damon," I mumbled, clutching the bottle of alcohol to me.

I WAS WINNING THIS THING!

"Aw," Damon mock pouted, "has someone accepted their defeat? You don't seem to be the type to give up easily, so what gives?"

"What time is it now?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Midnight. And you know what that means?"

I grinned. "That I won."

"WHAT?!" Damon flung me right side up, plopping me directly in front of him. I shuffled back a few steps, not liking the way he could tower over me.

I proudly held up my full bottle of alcohol, courtesy of the parlour table full of them. "I won," I repeated.

"How did you get that?!" he nearly shouted, snatching it from my hands.

I developed the ability to float.

"Magical acrobatic skills," I lied.

"No, seriously, how."

"Fine. A while back, I discovered I could stretch my body. You know, like Elastic- Girl and Mr. Fantastic." I made a good show of slowly extending my arm.

Damon rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Don't tell me. See if I care!"

Well, everyone could _see_ it Damon. And feel it.

I blew out a puff of air, sensing that he'd be no fun if I didn't give him what he thought was the truth. "All right! There was a bottle beneath the alcohol table, okay? It must've fallen when someone bumped into it or something like that. You just had to take my mystery away from me, didn't you?"

His suspicious, blue eyes darted to the table and back to me. "You didn't hide it there?"

"Come on. You would've seen it. And I told you I hadn't any more in there, didn't I? Do you think I'm a liar?"

Because I totally was.

"I told you I'd win; word breakers lose."

"Still on that, are we?"

_Yes._

"Nope! You want to eat that float now? I'm starving. It's my victory reward."

Damon shook his head, a sudden grin on his face. "Race you!" he shouted, darting through the door.

"Hey!" I yelled after him. "That's not fair!"

I couldn't help my amusement, and the passing thought that he was like a kid.

_He's so cute,_ I fleetingly thought.

The foot I'd brought up to walk froze. Cute. I thought he was cute.

I'd never thought that about anyone. Usually my thoughts about others involved them being a nuisance. I hadn't thought that once about Damon. Sure, things surrounding Damon a nuisance, like the whole friends thing, but not the vampire himself. He was fun to be around. Maybe things like his inner goodness were irritating, but I genuinely liked him. He'd decided that he wanted to be my friend, too. That was something no one had ever done. And now I was thinking he was cute?

_Would the sparks come next? _I dully wondered.

I was dying to know.

* * *

I swore his mansion must've been designed to be a murder house. There were so many halls. Halls led to more halls. Never ending halls. Stupid halls.

A bloody maze of halls.

His family had probably _built _it with the intent to trap and terrify victims.

…

I needed this house.

"Damon," I declared. "May I have permission to use this house for my daily, compulsory murders? It'd be tons easier this way."

"You know, I would say yes, but I feel that if I did, our schedules would clash. I perform my sacred cannibalistic rituals at precisely 3 every morning."

I drew a hand to my chest in feigned insult. "No! This just won't do! I'm afraid we would be terrible house mates. Good thing you won't be in the way much longer…" I cackled.

"Not if I finish you off first. You just happen to fit my serial killer profile."

Yes, because you meet so many girls like me.

"Well that's just my luck!" I chose to groan instead. Then, as if an idea had struck me, I snapped my fingers. "I know! What if we partnered up? We'd be the dynamic murdering duo! G and D- Mercenaries for Hire. We could be the most feared serial killers in the world."

I would be lying if I said the idea didn't appeal to me, at least a little. It'd be exciting… new.

Damon stroked his chin in an imitation of the way people with beards did. "I could definitely use some more publicity. People just don't fear me the way they used to… Winnie, you've got yourself a deal." He stuck out his hand for me to shake.

So I did.

And it ended up the warmest handshake ever. It felt different from any other time we'd touched, somehow. Hmmm… Was it because I had a new piece of information about him? His birthday was June 28. Did that bring us closer together?

Okay, that sounded like the most idiotic thing in the world.

I shook my head, and allowed Damon to rush me upstairs. He'd showed me the entirety of the first floor, which had a grand total of 10 rooms (for various uses, like study, game room, theatre room, etc) and 7 bathrooms. I was interested in seeing just how much more could be in this Boarding House.

But I was most interested in seeing Damon's room. "I want to see your room first," I demanded. That was literally the only thing I was invested in. "Oh, and Stefan's room. For future pranking purposes."

"Then why do you want to see mine?"

"Because friends should see each other's rooms. You can see miiiiinnne!"

"I thought you didn't want to be friends with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vampire, don't question me. I had mood swings.

"I'm not one for _friendship_, okay?" I confessed, unsure what I was supposed to say. "I honestly don't really care much for others. You on the other hand, I find amusing, so I hope you're not expecting more from me."

Damon stared at me for a while with his intense, unreadable expression. "We'll see," he said. "Come on, we're saving best for last."

He beckoned me to follow him down the hall, presumably to Stefan's room.

I pulled a face. 'We'll see?' What did that mean?

But I followed him, because that was the thing to do.

The vampire led me to the last closed door on the far end of one of the halls to the right. With a lack of show, Damon swung the door open and waved me in. "This would be dear Saint Stefan's room."

I peered inside. "I think your brother is a little bit of a hoarder," I noted, looking at the bookcase filled with books (duh) and various items. His desk was cluttered with papers and the like. And was that a photograph? I shrugged, seeing his made up bed.

I raced into his room and attacked Stefan's bed, tossing the pillows off of it. Ooh, they were so fluffy.

_Excellent._

"What are you doing?" Damon drawled, coming to a silent stop beside me.

"_We_ are going to do something with Stefan's pillows after you show me your room. _We _can play darts with knives and use some of Steffy's items at targets. Maybe _we _can jump off from the second floor railing ono these things," I said, patting the pillows with a giant grin. "Or, _we _can venture into Zach's room and misplace his things."

"You're insane, Winnie," he said. However, there was a glint in his eyes.

"But the ideas appeal to you, don't they?" I questioned, sidling up to him. "You _want _to do it. You want to cause all that chaos and trouble, because you'll hold the power."

"And why would you want to?" he murmured; I was enthralled by that look. By that glimmer of insanity. I wanted someone else to fall down into the darkness, into madness, just to have a partner in havoc.

"For the fun of it, Damon," I whispered, staring straight at him, into him. "For the amusement of seeing Stefan and Zach be irritated or upset or whatever they'll be."

In that moment, Damon seemed so close to me. Physically, I mean. He was in my personal bubble, a cloud of... something… in his darkened eyes. A newly becoming familiar tinge of irritation rose up in me. Would I ever understand these new expressions?

Damon leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. "_We're _not going to jump onto these pillows," he said flatly.

I blinked up at him, disappointed at the way his momentary lapse of sanity was gone. I wanted to see the wicked gleam again. "Why not?" I grumbled.

"You could get hurt."

Aw, he cared about my welfare. I didn't. "Then I get hurt. Ssssoo what?"

He shook his head at me, frowning in disapproval. "You must have a death wish."

I shrugged and changed the subject. "I notice you didn't disagree to the knife throwing and the replacement program for Zach."

A devilish smirk appeared on Damon's face. "Because I'm not opposed to them."

_ Because I want to create destruction._

I grinned at him. "Yay!" I cheered. "But first, I think I should see your room."

"How do I know you won't take to misplacing my things?" he questioned suspiciously.

I held up two fingers. "Scout's honour! Are you a neat freak or something? I am, too, you know. Sort of. I don't care about wrecking other people's lay outs, but like I said- scout's honour. I won't ruin yours or- I KNOW!" I shouted suddenly, startling Damon. "We should be the Joker and Harley Quinn for Halloween! It's perfect! Those two are, like, as psychopathic as me! Oh yes. This is happening."

Recovered and not daring to miss a beat, Damon replied, "You know that would make us sex buddies."

I waved a hand around in dismissal. "Details, Damon. We'll go over the fine lines later. But, in advance, I'm telling you that's not going to be happening."

"Yeah, that's what you think now."

That ego was something else.

"That's what I know," I automatically corrected, walking by him as he led the way to his room. It was on the polar opposite side, I mean really as far as you could get, from Stefurd's room.

Err… Steven's- no. Steffy's. Stefan? Yeah… Stefan's room.

"For now," he insisted.

"Forever."

"Forever is only forever in an allotted time."

"In that case, forever is in the time I decide. It's my infinity."

We continued bickering like this until we arrived at his closed door.

"While you present a _compelling_ argument, I must cut you short." He sounded so much like an old fashioned butler that I almost laughed. So chivalrous, he was. "May you marvel in the wonders you are about to see in the _infinity you're sharing with me._"

Stealing my own words.

Damon opened his door with a swift, grand motion.

Maybe I was biased, but his room was way better than his brother's. It was basically minimalistic, with only the essentials. Clearly, Damon didn't feel the need to save everything like a packrat (cough, Stefan, cough), though he did have a few things. The only real evidence of what he liked were the books in the book shelf and the one by his bed. From here, I couldn't make out the cover or title, but it was well worn and probably a first edition copy. There weren't many other personal items… How often did Damon come here?

There was a great fireplace, multiple lamps, a desk, and a chest, plus the king sized bed set at a cattycorner near the bathroom door. The room was cosy and I could truly imagine this space as Damon's. I yearned to know what was in the dark oak chest near the desk, and if I didn't like Damon, I totally would've checked it out. I was actually near caving to the urge to satiate my curiosity, but I had amazing self-restraint. Somehow, I doubted he'd appreciate my snooping. So instead I swept my gaze to the comfy looking bed.

With little thought, I dashed to the bed, taking a flying leap onto it. My landing was amazing, and anyone who doubted it was wrong. Fairly certain I looked like a dog chasing its tail, I spun around in circles on the squishy mattress before falling down on a mountain of pillows. "I love your room, Damey!" I childishly squealed.

* * *

At the same moment Gwen was collecting Stefan's possessions and Damon was tasked with the job of obtaining kitchen knives, Elena was lounging on her bed with Stefan. He'd been there for 3 hours now, and she didn't think life could get any better. This was exactly what she needed.

A guy she liked was sitting with her at 1 in the morning, in her room, and he wasn't attempting to make any moves on her other than the occasional hand brushes and close proximity. Stefan was the perfect gentleman. Not even the needling guilt she felt for banning Gwen from the house could ruin her mood, nor the suspicion that Gwen had listened for once.

Well, Elena doubted Gwen had listened to _her_; she was probably doing whatever she wanted, but she was also prone to doing the opposite of what others wanted.

"Okay, okay," Elena laughed, conceding to Stefan's side. "Romeo and Juliet isn't my least favourite Shakespeare play anymore. But don't think you can uproot Hamlet from the number one spot."

Stefan smiled that soft smile that she liked so much. To Elena, when he smiled, it was like being bathed in pure sunlight. His grins were like glimpsing at heaven.

God, not that she'd say such a thing aloud. It sounded so mushy, no matter how true.

"Thanks for seeing reason," he said, such tender affection in his voice and green eyes that Elena blushed and averted her gaze to her mattress cover. They were quiet for a while, comfortable silence enveloping them as they drifted through their thoughts and enjoyed just being in each other's company.

"Elena?" Stefan said.

She looked up, mildly worried by the sudden seriousness in his demenour. "Yes?"

He fidgeted, looking uncertain. When he asked his questioned, he refused to meet Elena's searching brown eyes. "Is Gwen always like that?"

He'd seen her at the party in glimpses. She'd talked to him when she'd bumped into him, and she used a lot of hand motions. He'd asked about her scraped knuckles and she said she'd beat a tree. Gwen was one of those people where he got turned out trying to figure out if she was serious or joking, so he had no clue whether to believe her or not. She also dropped terrible puns or said things that were funny even when the timing could've been- and was- deemed inappropriate.

For the most part, she came off as normal, but there were times when she unnerved him. And that was saying something, considering he was a 161 year old vampire, nearing 162. It had something to do with the way her mood did 180s and the way she got bored so quickly. She was always bouncing around for amusement, and she wasn't one to hide it. Sometimes, he saw something he didn't like in her. He'd seen it when Jeremy had run out of the woods with Vicki in his arms, and she hadn't cared at all. She'd even said, 'this party is a killer' to Bonnie and Elena like it was all a big joke, but so sarcastically that you could tell she was bored.

Something about Gwen just didn't sit right with Stefan.

Meanwhile, Elena released the breath she'd been holding. She thought he'd been about to ask something personal, like about her parents or Jeremy. This was only about Gwen. Reassured, Elena rolled her eyes. "The whole ominous thing?" Ominous thing? "Or her personality in general?"

"In general," he murmured.

"Then yep, she's always been like that and is always like that." I wasn't uncommon for new friends and boyfriend candidates to ask her about Gwen. In fact, it happened more than Elena was willing to admit.

"Do you know why?"

This was the first time someone had asked her the question of why Gwen was the way she was. Elena narrowed her eyes. "Why?" she repeated. Did he think they, her family, had anything to do with it? It wasn't their fault Gwen this way.

"I was only wondering," Stefan added, attempting to soothe her.

"Well she's been like that since we were 5," Elena snippily said.

But no, that wasn't quite right. She couldn't remember Gwen acting out in any sort of odd way until they were 7 or so. Before that, there were no questionable incidents.

She didn't bother to correct herself. Stefan could think what he wanted.

"I don't know why she is. She was bad enough when we were kids, but now she might as well be the monster in your nightmares."

Perhaps she was being a little harsh; Elena didn't care. Gwen was a little off the hinges, so Elena could say what she wanted. It was true anyhow.

_She's insane,_ Elena's mind whispered, though she didn't dare relay her thoughts.

And then there was the strangest thing. The other part of her mind said, _insanity is just a label_, and it sounded exactly like Gwen's sing-song British voice. Elena's brow creased.

"Elena," Stefan hesitantly spoke, instantly drawing the brunette's attention, "I hear ice cream is good for frustration."

She giggled at his attempt, shaking her head. "That's for a broken heart, but ice cream does sound good."

And then they both forgot about the conversation and the nagging uneasiness.

It was like it'd never happened.

* * *

After messing with fake Uncle Zach until he'd given up and gone to bed and taking aim at Steffy's things and leaving a mess of shreds and broken glass (Zach had to hold the record for deepest sleeper), Damon and I were on the way back to his room. I didn't know what we were going to do know, but I knew it'd be fun.

It was like I was bouncing around on clouds, I felt so light. This was the most entertainment I'd had in my entire life. Being Damon was some sort of magical experience and I had yet to bore. It astounded me how he could distract me with trivial past times and how it kept me from doing crueller activities.

However, it didn't stop me from suggesting them.

"Can we trash Steffy's room now?" I asked, making a move to go in that direction.

It wasn't the worst thing at least.

To my utter dismay, Damon reached out and gently tugged me down the other hall. My only condolence laid in him saying, "We're saving that for another day."

I smiled mischievously. "Making plans for the future, _Damey_? I thought you weren't sticking around for that long."

"Over analysing things, Winnie? I thought you didn't do that," he copied, sounding just as innocent.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, bite me."

Ugh.

…

_That _was a _really _stupid thing to say.

To a vampire, too.

Now I had to deal with Damon- lovely egotistical Damon- turning it into an innuendo.

"Are you offering?" he asked, voice dropping low. "Because, well you know, my room isn't that far away…" he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I fixed him with an 'are you serious' look before grinning. "Sorry. It's tempting but… I'm with someone."

A total lie, of course.

Damon wrinkled his nose in disdain. "Who?"

Was that… I smelt jealousy. Damon the jealous vampire!

For dramatic effect, I allowed the pause to elongate, building the suspense.

"Myself!"

It was sort of anticlimactic.

At his expression- a mixture of confusion, 'you're an idiot', and relief (maybe)- I doubled over, laughter peeling from me. "We've worked out a deal, you see. It's a passionate 3 way. Between me, myself, and I, there's simply no room for a you," I gasped out.

"I could weasel my way in. You won't be able to resist all this," he replied breezily, completely arrogant.

"I'm never engaging in intercourse with you."

I uttered the statement so flatly that Damon broke his serious mask and laughed.

"I'm serious," I persisted. "I'm not going to. It'll poke a hole in your inflated ego."

"Not possible."

"Fine, I'll bruise it then."

"Not before I get all close and personal," Damon sang, sliding closer to me.

Then it happened.

He put his hand on my arm and began to trace patterns on the pale skin.

And I felt it.

That spark. It was nothing like I expected. It was like being charged with electricity, having it race through my veins and set my nerves on edge- in a good way. There was a fuzzy, warm sensation spreading in my chest down to my stomach. It wasn't necessarily bad, either, but it was weird. It was all weird, new, and unfamiliar.

In short, the spark freaked me out.

I jerked away from him like I'd been burned, and I might as well have been with how hot (I was referring to that in terms of temperature, jeez!) his touch was.

But the feeling was still there. It hadn't faded. It was still sticking to my skin, to my being with no intention of releasing me. Like a parasite. I didn't want to feel it anymore. I didn't want to be anywhere near Damon, who was making me feel things I didn't want to feel.

Suddenly angry, I curled my fingers into fists, digging my nails into the skin of my wrists. I was overcome by the urge to destroy that had taken me in the woods earlier, technically yesterday.

And in a brilliantly twisted way, it felt amazing.

* * *

_**So I didn't change much to this chapter, but the next chapter, I did a lot and it's my favourite so far. I can't wait for you guys to read it :D**_

_**To everyone else who reviewed, THANK YOU! I'll start doing those review reply thingies next chapter, if anyone likes those. And don't hesitate to PM me if you want, I've made some great friends from writing this story.**_

_**And I know this is late, but the season finale of TVD! I was seriously loving Kai throughout the entire episode. He was amazing! Of course that thing happened at the end (not saying what because there's a chance someone hasn't seen it), but still!**_


	5. He Called the Cops

_**So, I'm publishing (or whatever the word is) this a couple days early! Yeah, I feel I should have more updates since it's summer and all... Sorry! I love you guys, I promise! Onto reviews:**_

Niflheim89 _**and**_ Nik1804: _**Thank you! :D**_

hanna:**_ If anyone, I can sort of imagine her with Kol... She's sort of a wildcard though and I keep going back and forth on the matter. But I know now that Damon is not going to be a romance for her. And I'm starting to put in little flashbacks starting with this chapter so yay! :D_**

Guest: _**Haha I like your thinking about Kol :D And I just want to say that this is the beginning of the story. There are things that a playing in the background, so everything is not what it seems and you'll have to wait a while for the reveal.**_

**_Okay, here :3_**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**He Called the Cops**

Jeremy Gilbert couldn't remember the last time he'd been this irritated when he was high. Normally, being on any drug would mellow him out. He'd be away from the world where Vicki was in a hospital bed from bad neck wounds and severe blood loss. He wasn't even allowed to go to the hospital with her when the ambulance came!

_Family only._ Jeremy might as well have been family with the way he cared about her! He should've gotten to go and stay with her.

God, they had her in critical condition, too. Vicki needed him there, he was sure. He _knew_ Vicki would want him there. She had to.

_If I took another pill_… Jeremy considered. The idea was tempting, and it'd be so easy. He wouldn't be worried and irritated over Vicki then. He would be zonked out.

Besides, then he wouldn't have to think about how it could be different. If he'd gone after her or something, she wouldn't have been alone and prey to an attack. If she'd just stayed with him instead of getting all upset, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. _If she hadn't been so stupid!—_

Jeremy stopped himself. Where had that come from? The animal attack wasn't her fault. He had no right to be getting angry with her over it.

No, no. Maybe pills weren't what Jeremy needed at the moment.

Obviously, taking another pill might lead to an overdose, and no one wanted to deal with that. He was doing better. If he took another pill and got in trouble for it, then it would unravel all the progress he'd made. Second, he wanted to be sober and clear headed when Vicki saw him, whenever she decided to wake up. At least then he would remember the encounter and there would be no holes in the memory. And maybe the pills were making him angry.

After a few agonising hours, he escaped from his house early, giving some lame excuse about shop class- which the school didn't have- and a birdhouse to Jenna, who, not knowing any better, bought it. He successfully avoided Elena, who he imagined was writing in her diary about God knows what.

Gwen was nowhere to be seen, and it occurred to him that he hadn't heard a thing from her. It was all for the best, since she had a habit of foiling his sneaking out plans, even though she wouldn't admit it. She was transparent in the act- shouting 'Jeremy where are you going?' wasn't all that crafty- but she played it off so well that Jeremy believed half the time that she wasn't doing it on purpose. She wouldn't care if he was only leaving to go to the hospital to watch over Vicki, she just liked to ruin things. Jeremy was glad he didn't have to think up a way to keep her mouth shut- though his efforts always failed.

He was glad he got to give his focus to Vicki and praying that she'd be okay.

* * *

Wilting leaves attached to the old oaks of the forest clouded my bleary vision.

Then again, it could've been an entirely different place, since someone had been screaming at me to run a couple of minutes ago. A deep voice yelling hoarsely at me.

The rising sun smiled down at me, but I was indifferent to it. There was something missing… Ah. That was it. There was no damp dirt smell, only black asphalt. My eyes wandered, a search ending in vain to discover the trees. Beating sunlight and endless cracking road.

I jolted, a shudder dancing up my spin. This wasn't the forest. Apparently, I'd migrated places. Obviously, I was lying smack dab in the middle of the road out of town. My joints creaked when I ventured to sit up, signalling a thousand other pinpricks of pain to begin. I winced. At least I hadn't become roadkill. _That _would've been awkward.

Why was I here?

Hair standing on end, I drew myself up. My heart gradually sped to a race and my skin flushed. My fingers curled into fists and I scowled. Damon was a stupid idiot. He and his ridiculous spark had indeed gotten the better of me.

I'd wanted to hurt someone- or something, of course; why would I hurt anyone?- when I'd left his house. Was that what I'd done? And blacked out? I wasn't the biggest fan of losing my memories, but there was a black blob resting in the better half of my night.

_Well._ This sucked. What if I'd hurt someone? I kind of wanted to know these things. More importantly, what had I done about it afterwards?

Not that I, erm, thought I had. Haha, no not me.

…

"Miss?" a wobbly voice asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Disconcerted, I blinked to find a new presence in my eye line.

Okay.

He definitely hadn't been there two seconds ago and I'd definitely been in the woods for the past four hours.

Or at least that had been the belief before the road was beneath me and the sun was unhindered overhead.

The young male's face was contorted with concern. He kneeled beside me, knees brushing the ground like he'd gotten tired. His squinting blue eyes were sort of watery and his shaggy blond hair was covered by a pristine 'Whitmore College' cap. What was he doing travelling on a school day- What day was it?

No, wasn't it a Sunday? Yesterday was that party, hadn't it been? And the 'animal' had attacked Vicki. That'd been a Saturday. Wait-

No.

Today was Wednesday.

… _I think…_

So he was skipping precious school! Shame on him!

"Are you okay?" he repeated slowly, like I was deaf.

I loathed the look he gave me. Like I was somehow disabled or damaged.

No, no. He was just irritating me. There was no other reason. He was just a nuisance.

Naturally, I continued the unintentional ruse in an effort to subtly annoy him.

"Do I need to call someone?" he asked. "Do you know how you got here?"

Jeez, he was annoying. I was trying to figure things out, duh. Couldn't he take a moment and _shut up?_

"You're covered in blood. Are you hurt?"

Covered with blood? That was new. That was _interesting. _That was worth my time. Why hadn't he said that first?

People were so useless sometimes.

"What's with people? Not getting to the poin_t._ Do you know how _infuriating _that is?" I snapped at the guy, making him stumble slightly.

I lifted my hands for inspection. Hmm… Blood, indeed. Mine. Those scratches on the backs of my hands had turned into full blown gashes. Those had stopped bleeding already. I brushed one of the wounds and winced. My fingers came back red. They'd stopped bleeding recently then; still drying. No blood on my legs. Some on my arms. Boy did it stand out. Was that mine, too? My shirt… Well, that was splattered with blood, though the majority of it was in streaks, so that was probably my own.

With the blond still silent, I raised expectant eyes up to him. "Well?" I asked impatiently. "Are you going to _tell_ me where this blood is? Or gawk at me like a useless idiot?"

At a loss for words, he gestured to my face.

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Of course, words might've been a bit more useful… and faster, but still."

He stared down at me.

Was this what all college students were like? Gaping, empty brained people?

How rude of me… Not as rude as him, though.

"Staring is rude, you know." I stuck out a bloody hand. "Mind helping a girl up?"

Dumbly, he took my hand, touching me like I was contagious. Once I was steadily standing on two feet, he hastily let me go and scrambled away. I tsked at him and prowled forward.

"Where are your manners, college boy? You're acting like I'm going to kill you. I don't know about you, but murder isn't really my style- Then again, I might've changed my mind at some point, if any of this blood isn't mine. But then the question would be, 'What did I get myself into?' right? And I sure do hope I can cover my tracks…"

I tossed him a cold smile. "And then it'd be a problem for poor you."

More staring.

A deep breath. "Okay college guy, if you have me, you want to share me. If you share me you don't have me. What am I?" I looked at him expectantly, but he only opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. "A secret! That was easy! So I have this secret that has to do with the blood but I don't know it, and you can't know it, get it?"

The guy would win a staring contest.

I groaned. "Jeez, do you know how hard it is to carry on a conversation with an unwilling participant? I'm trying here, I really am."

So _rude_ of him. I was playing nice and he was staring at me like I was the circus freak.

My shoulders lifted and fell in quick succession and I took a menacing step toward him. "But what's a little blood?"

He bounded away from me with a big leap.

_Aggravating_. That was the word for him.

An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. "Could you quit acting like I'm about to rip you apart? Of course, it'd be fun, because murder is laughable now, but like I said, I'm not feeling up for killing." I put a finger to my cheek and tapped. "But I have a problem. I need you not to remember me…"

The Whitmore cap guy began violently shaking his head. "I won't tell anyone."

Why did people always lie like that?

"You do realise none of what I'm saying translates to murder." It felt as if I'd relayed the same message about a billion times.

Think… think… Oh! A sharp ringing sound hung in the tense air as I snapped my fingers. "A concussion should work fine… Course it'll only be by pure luck that you never remember. And I'm going to all this trouble as a precautionary measure… Honestly. Someone should give me a reward for all the work I'm doing."

The guy stumbled in his place again and it clicked that his eyes were beyond bloodshot. The idiot was completely trashed. I laughed, clapping my hands together.

"Too easy!" My lips tugged downwards in a pout. "I was looking forward to a challenge."

Skipping over to him, I gave him a mock sympathetic wave.

"Night- night," I sang, right before punching him and watching his eyes widen with shock before the lights went out.

* * *

Stefan basically jumped out of his seat when the 6th period dismissal bell rang. He didn't come back to school for nothing. He wanted to see Elena- even it meant having to suffer through Mr. Tanner's boring class. Somehow though, he still managed to be late and ended up two seats away from Elena. It was just his luck.

And to make things worse, he could feel Gwen's piercing gaze burning holes into the back of his head from her back seat for the day. Or that was just his paranoia. Every time he glanced back at her, she was staring out the window with an unreadable expression on her face. More like a blank look, like she was feeling no emotion and very, very bored.

Shuddering, Stefan glanced at Elena, a soft warmth growing in his chest. He no longer saw Katherine when he looked at her. She was Elena Gilbert, pure and simple. She might've looked like his sire, exactly like her, but she was nothing like her. She was kind, and cared about others, and would sacrifice herself for the ones she loved.

As if feeling his eyes on her, Elena looked up, mouth curling into an adorable little smile.

He decided then that he never wanted her to change…

"Mr. Salvatore. Ms. Gilbert. Am I interrupting something?" Stefan was startled into awareness by the sharp voice of Mr. Tanner. A stab of annoyance shot through him for Tanner breaking their moment, but he was still polite. He'd had quite a long time to master his courtesy. He looked down at his desk, smiling softly.

Class went on without a hitch until the near end. The door banged open, and even Mr. Tanner was silent as a red masked man with an orange cape strode into the room carrying a bowl of… was that _rotten tuna_? Stefan scrunched his nose up at that.

The guy looked familiar, so familiar, but he couldn't place him. The masked man looked to the back of the classroom. Stefan followed his eye line, and he thought the guy had lingered too long on Gwen, but she didn't give anything away. Either she didn't know anything or she was far too good an actress.

Then he took in her appearance, because there was something about it that was just now catching his attention. She had on a black off the shoulder shirt with the words 'Don't Look' written in red and red jean shorts despite the cool September air. It was a dark colour. It reminded him of blood. That's why it'd gotten to him. And if he stared long enough, he swore he could smell the forbidden liquid.

Gwen pulled off the look in a way no one else could, especially with her pale skin and white hair. Even the purple streaks somehow seemed to match. The outfit didn't help to turn down the menacing and dangerous air around her. Her tapping fingers didn't take away from the image, nor did her scarred hands- he had no clue when she'd gotten the gashes but he could've sworn that was the sort of wound that required stitches. Her purple eyes almost seemed to be writhing like a fire, glimpsing at something that tittered dangerously. If he looked close enough…

Gwen suddenly whipped her head in his direction and smirked, sending unpleasant shivers up his spine. She looked like a predator in that moment, one that no one would dare cross. She _was _the top of the food chain and no one could take her down.

Stefan hastily focused back on the masked man, who was currently playing duck, duck, goose. Black hair… but lots of people had black hair. For some reason, everyone was just watching the caped intruder with baited breath, waiting for the next move. Mr. Tanner looked struck dumb with the person who dared interrupt his class.

"Duck… duck…" he patted Matt's head, and the football player dared to shoot him a bemused look. Gwen was next. "Goose!" he shouted with a wild grin, tapping her head. The girl laughed, but her grin was fake. It snapped everyone out of their dazed.

"I don't know who you are, but you need to leave before I call in security. _Now_," Mr. Tanner said with his tone of teacher superiority.

It didn't do a lick of good.

Before anyone could react, the guy had kicked Mr. Tanner in the low area that was every man's weakness. The balls, sending Mr. Tanner to the ground, gasping for air. The greatest humiliation if there ever was one.

The man pointed at the ceiling, shouting, "She made me do it!"

The next thing Stefan knew, reeking pasty food was sliding down his face.

Gwen's laughter rang out in the shocked quiet.

* * *

Jenna Somers did not look forward to her parent- teacher conference. Specifically ones with Mr. Tanner being the teacher. She didn't want to get 'tannered', as Elena and her friends had coined it. Unfortunately though, it sounded like being 'tannered' was a rite of passage and couldn't be avoided. The embarrassment of being scolded came upon every soul at least once in their life. Clearly, Jenna had been gifted with not only one embarrassment, but two.

So she sat in his classroom, awkwardly tugging at her clothes while waiting for someone to come in, because they were running on 20 minutes late. His classroom door was ajar and there were holes in the wall, as if it'd been slammed open with superhuman force. Due all to this, Jenna fantasised of the principle coming in and telling her she could go, escape, because something bad had befallen the one and only William Tanner.

And she had no shortage of ideas of the people he'd crossed with that attitude of his.

It was like a dream come true when her fantasy became reality. The clacking of high heels got closer and closer to Jenna until the gap in the half closed door widened. A woman stepped through, not ever to be mixed up with the man that was Mr. Tanner. She was the principle.

This couldn't be real. Not even in her wildest dreams.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long Miss Somers. We didn't know that Mr. Tanner had any appointments, parent-teacher conference or otherwise, for today until a few minutes ago."

"Has something happened to him?" Jenna inquired, barely able to keep the hope out of her tone.

Miss Principle nodded curtly, lips pursed. "It seems as though a masked man entered the room in a cape and was holding a bowl filled with something rotten, which he later dumped on the head of one of our students- Stefan Salvatore. He also began playing duck, duck, goose, and after choosing a student- no one seemed to remember who- he ran up to the front of the classroom and kicked Mr. Tanner in the- well… there really is no easy way to this, but where it would hurt a lot."

Jenna could fill in the blank. She gaped at the older woman. Was she serious?

"Are you serious?" Jenna probed in the most unprofessional manner she was capable of before she could stop herself. The principle furrowed her brows. Of course she was serious. Jenna stood up, sliding her hands over her skirt to straighten out the wrinkles. "I'm sorry. Does this mean I can leave?"

"Well, I did want to talk to you about a couple of things."

So… she didn't quite manage an escape. She wasn't a master at wriggling out of situations she didn't want to be in like Gwen was. Jenna, in defeat, settled back into the uncomfortable chair.

"Jeremy's skipped 6 classes in the last three days of school."

The principle was diving right in. _Well, this is off to a good start, _Jenna thought sullenly.

"Six classes? Are you sure? I mean, that's kind of hard to do," she said with false ignorance.

"According to his teachers, all the signs are there of him being on drugs." A pause. "It's impossible to raise three kids, isn't it?"

The way she said it implied that Jeremy's possible drug use was Jenna's fault.

"It's been tough, but no, it's not," Jenna replied sharply, peeved.

The principle took on a look of sympathy. Or what passed for it. "Honey, it is okay to admit that it is indeed impossible. Anything less and you're not raising them properly."

At this point, it was taking everything Jenna had to not slap this woman and she was still speaking.

"… with the way Gwyneth acts. Most of the students are deathly frightened by her. They say she's a psychopath and I've had to, on more than one occasion, call her to my office. I don't see what the students are so scared of. Gwyneth might be somewhat rebellious, but there's nothing in her that would scare others. I just don't understand it. Nonetheless, I still have to give her those forms that you have to sign all the time. I mean, for Pete's sake, school has just begun."

That caught Jenna's attention, diffused her anger. What forms? She'd never seen anything of these forms from Gwen.

She stood up briskly. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I forgot I have other, um, things to attend to."

"Wait-"

"No, I'm sorry. I do have to go."

Jenna had to crack down on Jeremy and Gwen.

_They say she's a psychopath… _

… Maybe just Jeremy, then.

* * *

I found the bodies without meaning to.

And no, they weren't my own victims, thank you very much.

This coppery scent was recent, so I followed it. I figured, might as well. There wasn't anything else for me to do. I'd already found where I'd ended up gashing my hands up, and coincidentally I was on the same trail. The trail was a far off one, and I assumed I'd gone on it because it was out of the way and not one of my favourites.

Except now when I reached the spot, there were two 5 foot deep graves, and a man and woman tossed beside each other side by side. Dried, dark red blood covered their mutilated necks, both on the left side. Their drained bodies were just waiting to be thrown into their graves.

This was Damon covering his tracks. It had to be.

Where was he?

I considered hiding, but he'd undoubtedly already seen me. It was too late for that course of action. I sighed in disappointment, kicking one of the corpse's hand out of my path. This would end the fun. Oh, I'd have to _explain _things and Damon wouldn't be in the mood to humour me. And I'd have to deal with the risk of feeling a spark again.

_A spark. _

My lips curled in disgust.

"Dammmmon!" I chirped softly. "I know you're here! We're _friends,_ aren't we? Come out so we can get this over with, will you?" I snatched up the sight of blurs of black between the trees, not bothering to follow him while he sped around trying to figure out what to do. "I've known since I first met you, you know. I actually have a knack for eavesdropping, and Miranda and Grayson spun quite the tale. _Lots_ of vampire stories."

When he didn't make any responses- like that pesky Whitmore student- I leaned back against a tree. I stared coldly at the stupid bodies and grinned maliciously. "There was one night they told Elena this story about two vampire brothers from 1864 that loved the same woman. How was that Damon? Having to compete with Stefan for the affections of Katherine Pierce? Was she worth it? I mean, you died for her didn't you? And, what, she didn't choose you? Or, no, it was too late, wasn't it? I suppose it's better not to know. She might've chosen-"

I was cut off when a mass super sped in front of me and shoved me harshly into the tree trunk, knocking my breath out of me. Rude.

"Do you want me to kill you?" Damon growled as I shook my head, shaking off the daze of being thrown into something hard. "Because I'll do it."

"Why would I want that?" I rolled my eyes. "People ask the wrong questions. I was trying to get your attention, since you were being _so _shy. I just knew that would draw you out."

"You aggravated a powerful vampire all for the purpose of getting him out in the open at the risk of him killing you?" he questioned, grip digging painfully into my forearms.

I nodded my agreement. "Simple, right? I'm not one for… waiting. And you were taking your sweet time, all right."

He stared at me, confused. "You're not scared? At all?"

Restraining my eye roll, I cheerfully popped, "Nope!"

I was beginning to feel the pain of fingernails tearing into my skin. Not cool.

"Mind laying off my arms, bucko?" I questioned, glancing down at his hands on my arms.

Damon didn't let go.

"You should be scared."

Because that was a great reason for not backing away.

"I don't do scared, Damon." Not anymore.

"I'm a vampire and you're human. I can snap your pretty neck just like that-" he removed a hand and snapped his fingers.

"Sooo do it," I egged on. Boring, boring, boring. He wasn't going to do it. He was impulsive but if he was going to, he would've killed me when we first met.

Simple line of thought and he was still keeping up this pretence.

"I have to admit, I was expecting more out of you. This whole 'agh I'm a scary guy' approach isn't really working for you."

He glared at me and I smirked. "This is quite the place to bury bodies, isn't it? I was here earlier, you know. After I left yoouur house all upset like," I carried on, raising my hand to tap his shoulder. "Didn't find anything interesting, did you? Kind of smells… bloody, doesn't it? You'd smell that sort of thing, right? You're, like, some super sniffer!"

Damon's brow furrowed. His confused blue eyes wandered away from my face, trailing down the rest of me. If I was correct, he'd noticed my torn up hands because red veins crawled around his eyes and fangs slipped from his mouth, slicing his lower lip. I found myself fighting the urge to run my fingers over his face. There was something grotesquely appealing about the darkness that his 'vampire face' represented that called to me.

"Let me guess- you punched a tree," he said drily.

It succeeded to distract him. It was easy to distract people who _cared._ Damon was just like that. I internally scowled. The more time I spent around Damon, the clearer it became. One day… One day his emotions would get in the way. It was inevitable. It would end my fun.

Pasting a grin on, I admitted, "Not quite, I don't think. I mean, the trail led back here, but it was a _lot_ of blood. I could've done something _completely_ different. Heh, maybe I'm copying the moves of whoever drained that poor bunny of its blood in the woods. That'd be something…"

Really, it would be something. I hadn't done that the first time at least. I wasn't dedicated to the cause of having a vegetarian vampire diet like Stefan.

"What, you mean you don't remember what happened after you left?" Damon questioned, his veins retracting, much to my disappointment. And he ignored all the other stuff I spewed out. Because that was an okay thing to do.

"I remember being angry… and then I woke up on the road and punched the lights out of some college guy," I laughed scathingly. "The idiot thought I was going to kill him."

Damon blinked carefully, expression blank. What was going on in Damon Salvatore's head now? He had a habit of slipping into his own thoughts and he was good at concealing his emotions- though not as good as me.

Whatever. I didn't care. I'd just keep on talking.

"So, like, I told him I wasn't going to kill him a bajillion times, but for some reason he didn't believe me. I can't figure out why, I mean I was being the poster child for friendliness. I'm friendly, aren't I, Damon? I was trying to make polite conversation-" So I was leaving out a few things "- and he was staring at me like I was an alien- No! Not human! Duh that sounds much better, because aliens don't exist but things like vampires do! Do you think aliens exist? I doubt it, obviously, but eh. I'm open to speculation and all that jazz… Anyway, the guy turned out to be _hammered_, which was probably why he'd failed to call 911 or whatever. I don't know. I guess seeing a blood covered person is off-putting or something. People are so squeamish it's ridiculous; blood is just blood. It's not—Mmphf!"

A large, warm, and soft hand clapped over my mouth, effectively cutting me off. Damon scowled down at me and I glared up at him in turn. It was at the deep end of indecency to interrupt someone while they were talking. Not that my chosen topic had been all important, but it was the principal of things.

"Rude!" I shouted, but my words were muffled by his bloody hand.

_Seriously._

"God, you talk a lot. It's actually sort of annoying," Damon said, as if he were commenting on the weather. He wasn't joking. His blue eyes were hard and flashing with frustration. I grinned viciously at him, spiteful. He could deal with it.

"That's what you get!"

Damon took away the hand that was painfully gripping me to keep me still. He put it to his ear and said, "What? I didn't catch that?"

I sneered at him. Oh now he was making jokes. He was so hilarious. Damon the comedian. _Ha._

But then, like a switch flipping, I began to laugh. Damon was funny in more ways than one. He was bloody amusing if he thought this would shut me up and keep me quiet. My shoulders hunched as quiet laughter shook me, covering my growing anger. Damon, Damon, Damon. Rude.

… Hey, I could move now… I grabbed Damon's arm and ripped his hand off of my mouth. In an unnecessary move, out of the cruelty of my heart, I curled his fingers, hearing several of them pop at once. Damon's sharp gasp of pain told me I'd broken them.

I grinned again. "Damey, it's really not nice to silence someone when they're talking," I growled. "Hey, do you think your tongue would grow back if it got cut out?"

Damon jerked his hand away from me, glowering all the while.

"Oops. Sorry! Was that a mean thing to say? Eh, forget about it. I wouldn't do that to you, so don't worry," I assured.

He cracked his fingers back into place, wincing. "What the heck did you do that for?!"

"See? This is how I knew you wouldn't kill me. I broke your fingers and you're mad about it and _not_ attacking me. A lot more peaceful than me. I was contemplating cutting your tongue out," I said, an easy smile sliding into place.

"You said you wouldn't!"

"That doesn't mean I didn't think about it," I replied innocently. "You told me I talk too much. It's completely justified."

"Justified!" Damon stalked forward angrily. "Snapping your neck is justified."

"Aw, I love how impulsive you are! It's great, honestly."

Was I that good at throwing Damon off the rage track? His eye twitched.

"I feel so special! You haven't killed me yet!"

The rational part of me insisted that I close my ruddy mouth.

Except that part of me was very small and almost non-existent, so I didn't listen.

I pranced around Damon, picking up the abandoned shovel beside the corpses. "Anyway. You want help burying these… people?" I nudged the woman's face with my shoe, making her lifeless eyes roll.

"No!" he snapped. "I'd rather add you to the pile!"

I put a hand to my chest. "Ouch. I'm hurt- I've always wanted to bury a body. Can check _that_ off my bucket list." I grinned at Damon. "C'mon Damey. Let me helllpp! I'll even play a question game with you and you can ask me anything you want."

Damon's hands balled into fists and the muscles of his arms flexed. A pout formed on my lips. Could he move on already? Did I have to say sorry? But sorry for what? I'd only said those things to get him in the open. It was a no-hard-feelings thing. If he went into a brooding mode I wouldn't have any fun.

_I _wasn't going to say sorry. I had nothing to say sorry for.

Wait… he looked a little confused as well as frustrated. Was it because I wasn't running away screaming in terror?

Propping the shovel in the dirt floor, I sighed. "Look, Damon. I like you-" _most of the time, I mean "_–you're pretty fun to be around and I know you like my company. So can you _please_ get over it? You're, like, the closest thing to a- a… _friend_ that I have."

Friend. The word sounded foreign in my mouth. Especially in the context I was using it for. True, he was as close to a friend as I'd ever gotten, but Damon wasn't a friend. Whatever that weird feeling I'd gotten at his house in regards to him had gone poof. He was only a source of amusement- a job that he was currently failing at.

"That's because you're crazy!" Damon yelled, wildly flinging his hands around in gesture.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'm crazy. _ Whatever._ At least I'm not a murderous vampire with issues. But admit it: You like me. However 'crazy' I am, you like me. It gives you a chaos buddy. I haven't seen you once get scared of me or wary and I don't get like that around you either. So whatever you say, I'll know you like me… Even if I do talk too much," I added as an afterthought.

Pppshhh.

"Not that I do. I mean, it depends on your definition of too much. See, I might talk too much to you, but-"

Damon held up a tense finger. "I will put my hand over your mouth again if you don't shut up."

I mimed zipping my lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. Damon tossed me an unamused look.

Tough crowd.

It felt like hours had passed by when I opened my mouth to speak.

"It's been 3 seconds," Damon stated in disbelief. "You can only be quiet for 3 seconds?"

"But it feels like it's been _forever_!" I stressed, jumping around. "I'm not patient."

As if he had a migraine, the vampire rubbed his temples. That was an absurd gesture. Vampires can't get headaches. That would defeat the purpose of their magical healing stuff.

I voiced this opinion.

"They can if they meet you," he muttered.

A grin lit my face. Such wit! Such sass!

…

"Damon the sass queen lives!" I shouted, bursting into laughter.

The look Damon pinned me with promised me a slow, torturous death filled with my screams. I only laughed harder, causing me to lose my balance on the shovel and flail onto the ground. More accurately, onto the bloody bodies.

The vampire groaned. "Just… Just help me with the stupid people," he sighed in defeat.

I raised a pale finger. "Give me a second, Damey. I just died."

Body trembling with the occasional stray laugh, I pulled myself up and looked down. "Aw! There's blood on me! Why are you such a messy eater, Damon?"

As if he hadn't heard me, Damon grumbled, more to himself than anyone, "Then we'll deal with all of… _this._"

"Hey! You just gestured to all of me!"

He was pacing away from me now.

"Wait! You're supposed to be helping!— Come on! Let's talk about this!—You did gesture to all of me!- I think you're overreacting! Damon—You're being a child- Damon!"

* * *

The sun was being obscured by a mountain of grey clouds by the time I finished covering up the bodies. Damon bloody Salvatore's corpses. His victims. Not even mine! I was doing someone else's stupid dirty work. Why couldn't I do my own dirty work?

If I wanted to bury things- like an animal, for instance- I would do it. But who wanted to do that? There was a reason curious pieces of ripped apart fur and indescribable chunks of something were strewn across the forest floor.

I was lazy!

Yet here I was covering Damon's tracks for him. All out of the goodness of my heart! I was actually being nice and he'd left me here. What was that? Like, 30 minutes ago? How long did it take to bury 2 bodies?

Eeeewwww.

I scrunched my nose up. There was a mix of dirt and blood all over my clothes. Ha, maybe I could take my frustrations out on another tree.

Speaking of which…

Stabbing the shovel into the fresh dirt I'd just used to cover the man and woman, I brushed the back of my hand against my forehead in exhaustion. I brought my knuckles into view. The strenuous effort had caused the wounds to recommence their bleeding effort.

Mmmmaaannnn… I had to clean up again.

This really was rough work.

The vampire should've done it instead.

I frowned at the shovel. What was I supposed to do with this? Leaving it here would be obvious, and my fingerprints were covering it. I didn't want to be found out and be pinned for murders I didn't commit.

Fine. Fine. I'd bring it to the Boarding House. Maybe I'd smash Damon's windows with it. Or hit him over the head with it! And show it off to Stefan. He'd think that Damon was corrupting poor, innocent me. The elder vampire deserved the extra trouble having Stefan hound on him for being a bag of rubbish.

Honestly! He repaid me for calling him the closest thing I had to a friend by leaving me alone to bury bodies. Wasn't it supposed to be a friend thing? Friends help friends bury people? I'd proved myself trustworthy, if I didn't say so myself.

"Damon Salvatore, oh I am going to hurt you," I muttered to myself.

Yeah, yeah. I wasn't even going to clean up. A brilliant plan. Mhmm! I was going to run straight over to Damon's oh so pristine house and mess up his neat and orderly and classy room and ruin it. With the shovel! And I'd roll all over his gigantic and too soft bed and stain it with blood! I would get a childish vengeance. Or more.

I hadn't yet decided.

Scrubbing the gashes on my knuckles, barely registering the pain, I stretched, back aching. Pulling the dirty shovel out of the ground, I carelessly swung it onto my shoulder and began to walk. Damon's house was only a 5 minute walk from here. Apparently vampires didn't feel the need to dump victims elsewhere because they could just compel away all their problems. Some of us had to sweet talk our way out of problems.

Stupid vampires…

Why was I on the side of the road? I didn't like travelling in the open. It ran the risk of running into people and people were annoying. Especially small town people who liked to weasel into your business.

Definitely wasn't talking about Mystic Falls.

I blew out a puff of air.

Well. I was here so I might as well stay.

The sound of a cop car slowing down and pulling to the side rang through the air. I glanced to the side as it rolled beside me. The passenger window squeakily rolled down on the police car, and the Sheriff appeared.

Very interesting. What was she doing, patrolling around here?

"Hey, Sheriff Forbes," I drawled, waving my shovel at the older woman.

"Gwen, I thought that was you. What are you doing here?" the blonde questioned, leaning over to see me. I kept on walking with my leisurely stroll, forcing her to keep up with me.

Which wasn't hard. I mean, she was in a vehicle.

"Oh, you know. Walking," I replied, gesturing about. What else did people do on the sides of roads? She was supposed to be Sheriff, wasn't she? "And what might you be doing in this area, Mrs. Forbes?"

"Just Ms. Forbes or Sheriff," she said sharply, and I tilted my head to hide my smirk. She was always so touchy about the title since the divorce. It drove her _crazy. _"Station got an anonymous call about dead bodies. Figured it's probably a prank but you can never be too sure."

Anonymous call about dead bodies.

_Damon Salvatore, I will flay you alive._

I masked my spout of anger that vied with amusement, placing a concerned look on my face. "Yeah, that's definitely a good thing to look into."

A flicker of a grimace appeared and disappeared on my face. Here was the Sheriff looking for bodies and I was carrying a bloody shovel and dirty clothes. Just peachy.

I swear Damon had this planned out.

"Well do you need a ride?" the Sheriff offered, like she actually wanted me to accept. In reality she hated my company as much as the next person. I made her uncomfortable. She was simply being courteous. I was tempted to accept her offer even though the Boarding House was coming into view.

"No, I'm just about there."

"Where you heading?"

I didn't see the point of lying to her.

"The Boarding House," I answered, pointing the handle of my shovel at the road. "You can just see the house."

"Oh, are you going to visit Stefan?"

"Nope!" I cheerfully popped.

"You're not visiting Zach Salvatore, are you?"

Of course I was. I had unfinished business with hiding his things. Duh.

"Not him either," I sang.

Really I was waving this shovel this way and that way and Sheriff Forbes hadn't noticed? Shame on her. It was quite boring.

"Miss Gilbert-"

"_Don't _call me that, Forbes," I interrupted swiftly and harshly. "You were one of Miranda and Grayson's closest friends. You know as well as I that they didn't consider me their own. They wanted nothing to do with me."

The Sheriff turned towards sympathy and pity. "Gwen, I'm sure it felt like that but-"

Quick as lightning, I slammed my hands onto the window sill of her car, startling Sheriff Forbes enough to hit the brakes. "Sheriff," I began sweetly. "Do you really think I'm that big of an idiot? They loved talking to you about how terrible I am- or was for them. They _disgusted _me and they told you as much." They showed as much to me.

"Gwen, I'm sure they didn't mean it."

Oh, they meant it, and to hear the Sheriff say otherwise made my blood boil. Did she want me angry? Because I was carrying a shovel. I was willing to dig another hole for a body. I didn't care that she was the Sheriff and her disappearance would be worrisome. I clenched tightly to the door, the relaxed them.

It didn't matter. Didn't matter at all. I casually brought my hands to rest on the shovel again, the picture of nonchalance.

"Well, _Mrs. _Forbes, I think I'll be on my way now," I said extra politely.

I spun back in the direction I was meant to be heading, but stopped as quickly as I started because Sheriff Forbes was talking to me. And her tone was suspicious.

"Why do you have a shovel, Gwyneth?"

_Gwyneth._

An involuntary shudder ran up and down my spine.

Not cool, Sheriff.

"Oh, I was digging graves for those bodies," I stated pleasantly, twirling the shovel and pushing my luck. I waited out the pause before breaking into a bright grin and laughing. "Come on, Sheriff. I'm only kidding! Do tell Caroline I said hi."

Without giving the Sheriff a chance to reprimand me for anything- besides I played the role of innocent so well- I continued on my path.

And it was curious.

Her police car refused to start.

Seeing red, I stalked around the Boarding House to find Damon's window. When I did, the shovel disappeared from my hands and a deafening crash and glass shattering disrupted the silence. A dull thud sounded from the second floor room- the shovel hitting his floor.

From somewhere- not the room I'd broken the window of- I heard a groan.

What?

Was this… not Damon's window? What?

I blinked, clearing my jumbled thoughts and calming myself. When I opened my eyes again, I realised there was no tree on this side of the house. It was the other side that had the large oak I could climb up and down. Not… this side…

Who in the world's window was this?

"You broke my brother's window?!" Damon screamed incredulously. As if on cue, his head of messy black hair appeared.

"I thought it was yours!" I defended.

"SO? You threw a freaking shovel through a window!"

"AND?" I tapped my fingers irritably against my red jean covered thighs. "It's not my fault! I wouldn't have thrown the shovel if you hadn't annoyed me!"

Okay, well, I probably would've in any circumstance.

Damon tossed his hands into the air. "Oh, so that makes everything okay! I annoy you and you go and destroy something!"

"Damon Salvatore don't go get all high and mighty on me! I buried bodies for you and you tipped off the coppers!"

"It was a petty little joke!"

"Calling the coppers and potentially landing me in jail was a joke?!"

"The _police!_ They're called the police-" Damon interjected, putting his head in his hands.

"Coppers!"

"You're freaking crazy!"

"Whatever! You still called the authorities!"

"A little payback for giving me a d- headache!"

"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE STUPID VAMPIRE!"

"Tell the whole neighbourhood, why don't you?"

I raised an eyebrow before spinning around. I took a deep breath and—

"I swear to God I am seconds away from ripping your throat out," Damon hissed in my ear. True to his word, he currently had an arm wrapped around my throat and hand clapped to my mouth. Again. Holding me in place. Again.

I wrenched his hand from my mouth and I wasn't sure if he let me do it or if I overpowered his almighty vampire strength. I spun on my heel to face him. I was staring at his chest and had to tilt my head, only to find his handsome face so close to mine.

His unnecessary, hot breath fanned across my cheeks.

"Oh, sorry did I give the poor vampire another headache?" I asked snidely.

He leaned nearer still and his crystal blue eyes nearly became the only thing in my world.

"No, but you're this close to making him ruin his perfectly good shirt," he growled.

I nodded my head. "That would be devastating." Then I tacked on, "for the world to see someone like you in a bad shirt. Not everyone can confidently strut around with dirty clothes and not be questioned."

Damon's eyes narrowed and his vampire veins crawled around. It was mesmerising to see up close.

"You going to bite me, Damon?"

He was saved from answering when a car pulled to a stop in front of the Boarding House. I jumped back from Damon to get a good look. Elena's car. Great.

She was always spoiling my fun.

Sulkily, I crossed my arms, watching Damon watch Elena. Why was he looking at her like that? With a pained expression? It wasn't as if they'd met before. She wasn't supposed to _mean_ anything to him.

Why was she being a distraction?

"What are you doing?" I asked when I noticed Damon gravitating towards the olive skinned teenager who was tentatively walking to the front door.

He froze and managed to spare me a glance.

"Why do you look at her like you know her?" I bit my lip. "But… it's more than that. It's… it's… like you…" I stopped myself. Where was the word I was searching for? It was on the tip of my tongue, yet all I could find was sadness, and it wasn't that. It was _more._

What?

_What, what, what?_

But Damon's irritation had returned full force and he wasn't going to answer me. "I'm going to go take care of Elena. I'll come to your house after."

"It's not my house. It's the Gilbert house," I answered automatically, robotically.

His eyes rolled. "We'll talk at the _Gilbert House_ then."

I beamed at him, but his eyes were flashing a million different expressions at Elena.

And then he disappeared in a blur, leaving me there.

_Stupid emotions_. Always getting in the way.

* * *

Miffed, Damon slunk back into his own house and appeared right behind the brown haired girl, subjecting himself to a confusing experience of cruel happiness and misery when Elena shuffled away from him in fright. For a moment, he swore Gwen was cackling away at the reaction, but her laughter faded away. It was all in his head.

"I… I'm sorry for barging in… the door was…" the Katherine duplicate turned slightly and gestured behind her, "open…" She frowned at the closed again entrance.

Katherine- no. Damon gave himself a mental shake. _Elena_ looked back at him with wide brown eyes in a 'deer caught in headlights' sort of way. Katherine could never pull that look off, and she was a rather excellent manipulator. She'd never been able to get rid of that mean, unyielding glint, one that betrayed her supposed kindness. It was something Elena didn't have.

Katherine hadn't gawked, either. She'd surveyed everyone in her path with the confidence of a predator, and Damon was exceptionally handsome, if he didn't say so himself. Where Elena stared at him with her doe eyes, Katherine had set her eyes on him and known exactly what she wanted. Him… and his brother.

Damon's heart squeezed, not nearly the ache it had been when Gwen had been injuring him with her words in the woods. He also had her to thank for the lack of pain he was feeling now. It'd been dampened greatly with how peeved she'd made him.

"You," Damon said, pointing a finger at her, "must be Elena. I'm Damon, Stefan's brother."

_ Sure, because you totally didn't figure that out from stalking her,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Gwen whispered in his mind. Like the accent wasn't a dead giveaway or anything. _Isn't that Stefan's job?_

"He didn't tell me he had a brother," Elena warily replied.

It was totally out of character for the woman he'd fallen in love with in 1864, but he imagined that it was Katherine for a moment. It had to be. Katherine, come back for him.

_Really, Damon? Can't even tell the difference between 2 different people. Get yourself together, vampire! _The Gwen voice in his head said.

Great! She was annoying his inner self, too. Why was he even thinking of her? This was business between Stefan, Elena, and him. There was no room for Gwen of any form.

"Well, Stefan's not one to brag." Gwen's amused snort bounced around him. Damon ignored it. "Please, come. I'm sure Stefan will be here any minute now."

He led her into the massive room.

"Wow," Elena breathed. "This is your living room?"

Damon shrugged, nonchalant and used to the size. "Living room, parlour, Sotheby's auction," he casually tossed out, his subtle way of boasting. "It's a little kitschy for my taste."

_Sotheby's auction? Seriously? _Little Gwen commented.

_Shut up, Winnie! _Damon sang back. _Why are you in my head? I've known you for, like, a week._

_ How should I know? It's your head! You invented me, you're talking to yourself… Not hearing voices, are you? That'd be bad._

Damon decided not to heed any more attention to his thoughts.

"I see why my brother's so smitten-" _Yeah, because she looks like Katherine! _"- For a while there, I thought he'd never get over the last one. Nearly destroyed him."

_More like you._

"The last one?" Elena asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, Katherine, his girlfriend." Fake realisation dawned on him. "Oh… you two haven't had the awkward exes' conversation yet."

"Nope," she said shortly.

"Well, it's sure to come up now!" _A bit too cheerful, buddy. _"Or maybe he didn't want to tell you because he didn't want you to think he was on the rebound. We all know how those relationships end."

"You make it sound like all relationships are doomed to end." Her tone had taken on a hint of interest.

_Is it just me, or is she reaching? She's reaching, right?_

Damon wasn't doing this. He wasn't about to hold a conversation with the version of Gwen he'd conjured up. Reasons for him to be irritated with her were piling up and this one honestly wasn't her fault.

He shot a fake grin at the Katherine double. "I'm a fatalist. Hello, Stefan."

Elena's brow furrowed. Another thing Katherine hadn't done often.

"Elena, I didn't know you were coming over," Stefan said, hard eyes trained on Damon.

"I know; I should have called. I just…"

Damon waved away her pathetic excuses. "Oh don't be silly. You're welcome to stay any time. Isn't she, Stefan?" He switched tracks. "You know, I should break out the family photo albums or some home movies. But I have to warn you, Stefan wasn't always such a looker."

Stefan's glare turned venomous. "Thank you for stopping by, Elena. Nice to see you."

"Yeah, I should probably leave. It was nice to meet you, Damon."

"It was nice to meet you, too, Elena." As an afterthought, he added, "Oh, do tell Gwen I say hi!"

"You know Gwen?"

"Oh, we've crossed paths," he said airily.

She turned to leave, only to be blocked by Stefan, who wouldn't stop glowering at Damon. A twinge of hurt shot through him. He wanted his little brother back.

_Well if you want it so bad stop acting like a nefarious evil doer and show him! _

He wasn't going to take life advice from a voice in his head. He was pretty sure Gwen would never suggest that anyway.

"Stefan…" Elena muttered. "_Stefan._" He moved to the side, still without looking at her and she left.

When she'd gone, Damon said, "Great gal… Whoo. She's got spunk." Lies, all lies. "You on the other hand… look pooped. Did you overexert yourself today? The hospital maybe?"

Stefan grinded his teeth, "Someone had to clean up your mess."

That was debatable. "Well, did the powers of persuasion work? Remember, if you don't feed properly, none of those little tricks work. Bambi isn't enough."

"How long was Elena here? How do you know her sister?"

_I'm not the Gilbert's sister! Tell him, Damon! Tell him I'm not!_

This was getting out of hand. Damon clenched his hands into fists and pulled a smirked, "Are you worried? Scared I might ruin your little game of high school human?"

"I'm not playing any games, Damon. Now answer my questions."

Damon rolled his eyes, "Of course you're not." He tutted, "We both know the closest you'll ever get to humanity is when you rip it open and feed on it."

Stefan sighed, "What kind of game are you playing at?"

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you, little brother?" Damon replied ominously, sliding past him without protest.

He waited to head to the Gilbert house until he heard from Stefan, "There's a shovel on my floor… Damon! What the heck happened to my window!?"

* * *

5 minutes in to the wait for Damon to appear in my room, I was regretting the decision. I'd trapped myself in the Gilbert house indefinitely. I wanted to sort things out with Damon, and it led me to this idiocy.

I should've stayed at his place…

Groaning, I flopped onto my bed. Exhaustion rattled my bones. Burying people, as it turned out, was hard work. If I ever had to do something like that, it was on Damon. He was the vampire, not me. He was responsible for any future tracks that required covering.

The ceiling fan spun around in a whirl of bright colour. The blades were painted glow in the dark, and in the false blackness of my room, they burned brightly. Around it, a map of stars that connected to become constellations covered the ceiling. They weren't tacky plastic glow in the dark stars, either. They were blots of paint that I had painstakingly taken the time to put there and it looked _stunningly_ authentic.

I'd been begging Miranda and Grayson for years to let me decorate my room the way I wanted. I wanted the ceiling to resemble a brilliant night sky. I wanted black walls with neon splatters. I wanted my furniture to all be different colours but to match a given splatter. I wanted everything to _pop._ I wanted it to be extraordinary and mine.

But Miranda and Grayson had refused, and then they'd died. In my newfound freedom, performing the room makeover had been one of the first things I'd done. My own little rebellion, my spitting in their faces that they could no longer control me. Because if they could be ghosts, I wanted them to _hate _me.

I'd gotten down to work the moment I came back from the funeral. Elena and Jeremy and everyone else hadn't wanted me to come in the first place, so I did to annoy them. And then they'd kicked me out and I was bored anyway, so I did what I'd wanted for years. I made my mark. The last things holding me back… and they were gone.

A lazy grin spread across my lips and I closed my eyes for a moment, savouring the temporary bliss…

_BOOM! _

I leapt from my bed, looking around wildly for the source. I'd heard it. I'd heard it. It'd happened. It had… It had…

But an eternity passed, and nothing came of the noise. Just my imagination… always my imagination, of course…

Tiredly, I shuffled back over to my bed.

"You can't just do that!" someone yelled a minute later. A man's voice.

"It's not hurting anyone!" a woman screamed back.

I sat up. Why were a man and woman fighting with each other? From right outside my door? I double checked my surroundings- my room. This was the house I lived in. I wasn't in the wrong place.

It wasn't Miranda and Grayson out there. It didn't sound like them. Even if it did, they were still gone.

"Not hurting anyone? It's hurting your kids! Your family!" the man shouted.

Weren't they worried about being heard?

I stalked over to my door. They were right behind my door. Opening it would startle them. Then they could leave or whatever. They'd clearly walked into the wrong house… at some point…

Except there was no one there. The hallway was empty. There wasn't a hint of sound, either. No one. Was anyone home in the first place? The house was too still.

I blinked heavily and rubbed my eyes. Surely they were deceiving me. I'd heard them… fighting again. All they seemed to do was fight…

And then it crashed into me like I was coming to in a nightmare. They weren't real. The man and woman- my imagination. The ones from my head. They'd been fighting again. Fighting and fighting. Why did they fight so much?

Scratching angrily at my arms, I slammed my door shut. Fake. They were fake. No wonder people thought I was crazy. I was hallucinating and even though it featured the same things every time, I still fell for it. I tricked myself.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to reign in my emotions.

"Gwen."

My eyes opened again, brow furrowing. But... Someone… I shook my head. There was no one in my room.

Right?

I casted paranoid glances around the suddenly too dark room, flicking on the overhead light and pulling the blinds up for extra measure. There. Lots of light. I wasn't scared of the dark, but I wouldn't be a living person if it didn't give me the heebie-jeebies on occasion.

"GWEN!" a voice shouted from behind me.

A shudder flew up my back as I whirled around. I nearly jumped out of my skin to see Damon standing there. Jittery, I pulled some sort of ridiculous ninja move that was ironic considering my spy skills and put a hand to my heart. Which wasn't actually thudding, but dramatic effect. It sort of failed because Damon could hear my heartbeat and all.

"You scared me!" I screeched, already getting over it. I wasn't sure it could be called fear in the first place, given it took me only seconds to feel something different. A more appropriate word would be shock. Shock wore off fast.

"What the h- was that?" Damon questioned. He said it passively, too flat for it to be anything but shoddy acting.

I crossed my arms. "What did I tell you about the language?"

"Are you serious right now? I've been trying to get your attention for 5 minutes while you were scurrying around like I wasn't here, and you want to lecture me for using 'no-no' words?"

"Wh—What?" I spluttered agitatedly, tapping my fingers against my reddened upper arm. "What are you talking about?"

"You mean you had absolutely no clue that I was waving my hands in your face or hear me calling your name?" The vexed glimmer in his blue orbs morphed into disquiet.

"Oh. That. That's a new one," I commented drily. I definitely had issues. Not registering things was quite odd.

"That's a new one?" Damon repeated.

"Yeah. I'll admit, it's kind of unnerving."

So, I lied. Not a lot got to me, _really_ affected me. My hallucinations? Anything that had to do with certain problems… Those got to me. Damon needed to lay off. He needed to shut up and move on and forget about it.

"What was it?" he prodded.

Antsy, I shifted my weight. "It was nothing."

"I've never known a person to call not registering a person nothing."

"Well, that's what it was. Nothing." Changing tact, I said, "So, aren't we supposed to be talking about this whole situation? Questions? I have questions."

I meandered to my bed, sitting down and patting the space next to me. Grinning crookedly, I said, "I don't bite."

Damon rolled his eyes, and I was grateful that he dropped the subject. "Right. You don't bite. I'm the vampire here."

"Yeah, yeah so anyway." I bounced up and turned to face him excitedly. "We can play a question game. You say something, and have to end with a question. Got it?"

"Where did you get this idea from?"

"From a book called 'It's Kind of a Funny Story'." Of course I omitted the part where you could forego answering. "Have you read it?"

"Nope. Too busy travelling, killing people." A long pause. Damon scrambled for a question. "Your room- the Gilberts let you do this?"

Okay. He was starting small.

"Uh, no. Miranda and Grayson wouldn't let me decorate it at all. I did this the day they died. It suits me, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it would if you had a bubbly personality." _Ha. _"I guess it matches you. It's chaotic. You don't seem to like the Gilberts very much." I nodded. "Why not?"

"They were mean," I answered elusively. "Why are you asking me about it?"

Damon smiled tightly. Every passing second made it look more and more like a grimace. "Call me curious. You're going to ask me personal questions, aren't you?"

My jaw reflexively clenched. He had a point and I'd suggested this stupid game.

"Fine. That's fair. So what about your room?"

"What about my room?"

"You don't have much in it. Nothing to remember. Why not?"

"I like to live in the moment. I'll remember what I need to remember. Where's all your personal stuff?" There was a flicker of a frown. Maybe he didn't have anything worth remembering, whereas Stefan was a packrat and recorded everything… What about Katherine?

I bit my tongue. I had to choose my questions, one at a time. Answer the ones asked to me... "Miranda and Grayson didn't get me a lot of stuff. I have books, though." I gestured to my neon yellow bookshelf stuffed with tattered books I'd bought at sales. "And I take photos, on occasion. What's in the chest in your room?"

"So maybe I've kept a couple of things in my life. Why are all your books so worn out? Where are the photos?"

"One question at a time, Damon," I sang. "Which one do you want to know?"

"Fine. What's the deal with the books?"

"I read a lot."

His eyes narrowed. "You're lying to me."

"I'm not." Technically. It was a half-truth.

"Then you're leaving something out."

"You forgot to ask a question."

"So did you."

I took a long look at the older vampire. I didn't have to tell him anything more. I could leave it at that, but I something was pushing me to. There was a compulsion to, and it had nothing to do with Damon's mind tricks. Why would I want to tell him? Was I really so pathetic?

Then again, it wouldn't affect me so much. It wasn't as if he'd know too much. It was okay. Just like I was okay.

There was a tickling sensation on my hands.

Damon's veins bulged around his eyes. They darted to my knuckles. I followed. Oh. They were bleeding again.

I hummed thoughtfully, swirling a finger over the stinging, warm flesh and creating a blood trail. "Maybe I need stitches."

"You think so?" Damon replied sarcastically.

I'd never had to worry about hospitals before. Grayson had been a doctor; he'd taken care of all my… accidents. I was clumsy… I wasn't nearly as clumsy now as I'd been under Miranda and Grayson's watch.

"Well. I don't want to go to the hospital. I think I'll wait it out." I exhaled loudly. "How bad do you think it'll scar?"

Sensing we were back to the game, Damon said, "Not sure. A little. Why don't you want to go to the hospital?"

"Too many questions." Damon disappeared and then reappeared in a flash, holding a role of bandage in his hand. "Can't your blood heal?" I asked, taking the white gauze he held out to me. I wrapped my hands, though blood continued to seep through them.

"Of course it can, but you're still on my bad side. Why'd you hurt a poor, innocent tree?"

"I'm so glad to see how little my pain means to you." A white lie. The sizzling pain didn't hurt me too much. I was sure I'd experienced worse. "I got angry. Didn't I mention that?"

"You said you went mad but you didn't sound serious about it. What were you angry about?"

"No clue. Just happens sometimes." I finished bandaging my hands and smirked, tossing the remaining roll back to him and scooting farther onto my bed. Grabbing one of my soft, fuzzy blankets, I wrapped it around me in a cocoon.

"Why do you look at Elena like you've met her before?" I threw at him expectantly. He was getting into a little more intense things, so I'd do the same.

I didn't understand why, but for some reason Damon decided to tell me the truth.

"Elena looks exactly like Katherine," he whispered.

Ah. That explained the pain expression. The looks of love… It explained a lot.

"You tap your fingers a lot. You were doing it when I got here, and when Miranda and Grayson came up." A look of surprise must've flown across my face because he said, "You don't even notice. Why do you do it?"

I shrugged. "Habit I've had since I got here. I'm not supposed to do it though. They don't like it." The problem was, I didn't know who 'they' were. Why had I said that in the first place? "Is Katherine the reason you came back to Mystic Falls?"

"Yeah. Did Miranda and Grayson give you vervain?"

I grinned. "Nice, catching on about all that. No, they didn't give me any. They gave Elena and Jeremy some. It smelt weird. What happened to her when she was supposed to be burning in the church fire?"

A lively, boyish glint appeared in Damon's blue eyes and he leaned forward slightly. "I made a deal with the Bennett witch. She saved them all in the tomb underneath the church."

Damon looked so proud of himself that I nearly felt bad for him.

If there was something Miranda and Grayson were always honest about, it was their stories about Mystic Falls in 1864. Their hearts didn't stumble when they spoke about it, and their tells didn't show. They were truthful. It was how I was certain that Katherine was a cunning, manipulative, selfish brat of a vampire. She would've found a way out.

But I made sure to keep the almost pity out of my face.

"Why aren't they wearing vervain anymore?" Damon questioned.

"Oh, I destroyed it. It smelt _weird,_ I kid you not. And I got mad. And then Miranda and Grayson got furious at me because there was no vervain left; I have a feeling that was your fault. I don't think Katherine Pierce is her real name. What is it?"

I had a theory. Katherine was old, like really old. She was a survivour. The story she'd told to the Salvatores about being orphaned after a fire killed her parents in Atlanta, it corresponded with some truth. Lies usually did. The only thing true about that was that she was a survivour.

For a second, Damon looked fairly thrown off. "Katerina Petrova... So you got rid of their vervain because you were angry. What were you mad about?"

So _Katerina_ came to the town of Mystic Falls under the alias of Katherine Pierce in 1864. She was a centuries year old vampire who could go anywhere, and she chose a small town… Why?

"Well, I was angry at Miranda and Grayson, but going after the vervain they gave Elena and Jeremy was the best tactic for my 9 year old self." The memories resurfaced and I quieted down. "It was… They took my friend away…"

One of the only people who talked to me and didn't get concerned about my peculiar behaviour, who treated me normally, and they took him away. Grayson had been doing who knew what to him and gotten furious at me for even knowing about his existence. I wasn't supposed to know… I wasn't supposed to try and help, either.

I looked back up at Damon and grinned suddenly. "It was fair revenge, I'd say. They deserved a lot worse than that and it was by no means as bad as what they did later… Damon—this tomb. How are you so sure that Katherine is in it?"

"Because. She has to be. She's waiting to get rescued and I'm going to do it." He nodded to himself, all earnest and 200% convinced.

He had to be lonely. That was why he was being so honest. He'd been keeping this on the down low with no one to tell and now I was asking. That made sense.

Well. He wouldn't be wanting my pity…

He was too head over heels in love- or obsessed- with Katherine to realise what I was seeing. Katherine would've been clever enough to know about the Town Council and the danger of being there. She would've been ahead of the game. 2, 3, 5 steps ahead of everyone else. The church fire would've been perfect for her to get a fresh start. To fake her death…

Why would she fake her death? What was she running from?

I couldn't very well ask Damon. Not yet. I didn't know how he'd react to it. Maybe later… When he trusted me more. When Katherine wouldn't be someone he obsessed over.

"Who was your friend?" the vampire before me inquired. His manic look over Katherine dissipated into curiosity.

I shook my head sharply, fingers renewing their tapping. "I don't want to talk about him anymore, Damon. Will you tell me about your life in 1864?"

"Will you tell me how you're somehow as strong as me and faster than the average human?" Damon fired back.

What was he talking about? I wasn't stronger than him.

WELL. He could think what he wanted. I'd go with it. "Nope."

Damon snorted. "Then why should I?"

"Because I'm a good listener?"

"No, I think we've had enough talking for today."

I pouted. I wanted to know more. Everything I could find out about him. "Damey! What about why you hate your liwwtle broooother?" I chimed, prying and aiming to irritate him.

Apparently Damon was fun to annoy.

He scowled at me, not appreciating my tone.

Without warning, my door burst open. I didn't move from my spot, trusting Damon to take his chosen course of action. He flashed away.

Man, vampire speed was useful.

And I got the feeling he wasn't coming back.

Vampire speed sucked, then.

"Oh. You're actually in here," a surprised Elena stated, walking into my room without permission.

"Sure, Elena, you can come right on in. Thanks for asking," I replied loudly, not looking at her. Instead I glowered at my ceiling.

She ignored me. "What are you doing?"

"I'm crying tears of joy because you barged into my room," I deadpanned.

Ew. No! Get off my bed, Elena. She'd perched herself on the edge of it, so I rolled over and oh-so-gracefully strutted to my window seat.

Ha-ha! I didn't trip over my blanket!

"Damon said hi."

I smirked slightly. "Oh did he?"

"You never mentioned him."

I'd met him the first day of school. That wasn't really worth talking about. "Why would I talk to you about it?"

"Because I'm your friend?"

I scoffed at that and rolled my eyes. "You say that now because you want to know something. We're not, we've never been friends, Elena."

Elena's mouth opened and closed. I had a point.

"Do you just want me to tell you everything I know about him? You're not interested in him, are you?"

Jeez, I hoped not. But history did have a funny way of repeating itself. It even went as far as to recreate copies of people!

"No!" Elena shouted indignantly. "It's just that Stefan didn't tell me he had a brother."

"Well, Stefan's not one to brag," I absently said.

"Whoa, that was creepy. Damon literally said the exact same thing."

I raised an eyebrow. That was interesting. I grinned ruefully. "We have a telepathic connection."

"Ha. Are you going to the Festival tomorrow?"

"I don't know. Probably. It's not like I've got anything better to do. Why?"

"Just wondering. Bonnie and I need help passing out flyers."

"You don't like having me around."

"That's not true," Elena said, but her heart stuttered over a beat.

A lie.

"No, I make you nervous. You're getting nervous right now." I sat up eagerly, thriving off of the little flinch she gave even though I wasn't close to her.

She tried to laugh it off. "Gwen, quit it."

"Quit what, Elena? We're only talking."

I've never seen someone scramble up as fast as Elena did.

"We'd only been talking last time, too," she said quietly before scurrying out of the room.

_We're only talking._

My lips twisted into a grin.

I had said that before…

_It was a breezy sort of day where the wind was cool and light. Standing on the edge of Wickery Bride overlooking the water, I spread my arms and let the current of air blow around me. With the lightly rippling lake glimmering beneath the setting sun, I tipped my head back so my hair fell over my shoulders and closed my eyes._

_ This was one of the few times I genuinely appreciated living. Appreciated the world and my existence in general. It wasn't something I took for granted, but I definitely didn't think much about it. If I were to die today, I decided, I'd miss this. Nature, the distinct lack of other people, the freedom. _

_As I breathed in the fresh air, the chatter in my mind quieted._

_For once in my life, I felt some semblance of peace. For a second, I felt not bored yet not excited. I wasn't irritated or angry or happy. I was existing. I simply _was.

_I was existing, and I accepted the notion that nothing would happen if I died. The world would keep on revolving because it didn't know any better until its end. It wouldn't miss me. Nobody would miss me._

_It wasn't a sad thought, or anything. It was a fact, unhindered by any emotion the statement might've entailed at one point._

_Everything lived and died eventually. Physically or metaphorically, all had an end. The world kept going because that's what it was meant to do. Continue._

"_Gwen!" a voice snapped. "Why are you up there?"_

_My eyes fluttered open and I wavered. I was leaning forward to an excessive amount. My time of being everything and nothing ended, and reality crashed back into me. _

"_What are you doing here, Elena?" Even to myself, my voice sounded odd. Too lucid, too dreamy._

"_Looking for you," she stated haughtily. I imagined that she'd put her hands on her hips. "Mom and dad-"_

"_They're not my parents."_

"_-want you home."_

_Why did I still try? My protests against referring to Miranda and Grayson as my mother and father fell on deaf ears. Elena never liked to listen to me._

"_Why?" I made no move to get off of the bridge ledge, but I spared Elena a glance. She met it with a scowl- and indeed, her arms were folded across her chest in a superior manner. I resumed gazing at the sparkling water._

"_Because it's nearly 7 and we're having dinner. As a _family_," she added pointedly._

_But… We weren't a family. Why would we have a dinner together?_

"_Then why aren't they looking for me?" I instead asked._

_I felt as if I were floating. I could do anything… I was free here…_

"_I volunteered to. I figured mom and dad could use a break, considering how they have to conduct search parties for you almost every day."_

_I bristled at her choice of words but stared docilely at the water. The sun's reflection was about gone. It got darker and bleaker by the second._

"_I'd hardly call them search parties," I murmured drily. _

"_It takes them hours to find you!"_

_Because they're not looking._

_I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying so. I was too tired to get into any fights or stir things up. I was a bit surprised that Elena hadn't brought it up yet._

_Not that she paid that close attention to me. _

"_I had to get out of the house for a while," I replied with._

_Elena snorted. "Yeah, as if you don't get out enough at night. You sneak out all the time."_

_My shoulders rose and fell of their own accord. "I can't sleep."_

"_That doesn't mean you get to go out whenever you want!"_

_The first bit of irritation seeped back into me. "Well, maybe it wouldn't be such a problem if Miranda and Grayson let me out of the house more often," I said, keeping my voice empty and conversational. _

"_Because you're always pulling stunts like this!"_

_I winced at her high pitched voice. "Would you quiet it down? You'll wake the dead—they don't ground me because I go out so much without permission."_

"_Oh? Then why do they?" Little Miss High and Mighty with her sceptical tones._

"_They don't like me going out," I muttered. _

_Elena didn't hear and when a suitable time had passed, she triumphantly claimed, "See? You don't have any excuses because that's the real reason. If you didn't sneak out, they wouldn't ground you." _

_They wouldn't ground me for that, I silently corrected. They'd find other reasons._

_The thing was, I wouldn't have to sneak out at night if I could go to sleep. But I couldn't sleep because my nightmares would wake me up and it infuriated Miranda and Grayson. My last attempt from the year before had resulted in everyone being on edge. It wasn't my fault that I'd started screaming. I couldn't control what I did when I was sleeping. _

_So I had to stay awake and sneak out, because when I stayed in the Gilbert parents got onto me for making too much noise. Besides, their house got stuffy. I liked being away from all of them when I could be. _

"_Hey- since when do we eat a 'family' dinner?" I wondered, finally turning away from the view. I could come back later._

_Elena's eyebrows quirked. "We've always had family dinner."_

"_You usually have dinner without me. You don't even set a place for me." I jumped onto the road beside my false sibling._

"_We stopped setting a place for you because you didn't show up."_

_Right. I'd already known that Miranda and Grayson hadn't told Jeremy and Elena about their banning me from daily dinner. I yearned to correct her, but as my hand ghosted my stomach and a twinge of pain shot up my side, I stopped myself. I didn't need Elena prodding for answers._

_And they said I had no restraint._

"_Do you know why they want me there?"_

_It came out as more of a growl, taking us both aback. The little flash of fear that appeared in Elena's wide eyes sparked something in me and suddenly I felt positively alive. Completely me and nothing less. Dark satisfaction surged in me._

"_N-no. Probably something about vacation. Gearing up for some great vacation before Elena became a junior. We have to choose a place to go this summer." Subconsciously, she took a step back._

_Yes… It was January, after all. That time of the year where they voted for a vacation spot, my suggestions got ignored, and then they unwillingly dragged me along._

_Such fun._

"_Florida would be a great place, wouldn't it?" I asked, casually stepping around her and blocking her path towards the centre of the road. She went back- nearer to the ledge of the bridge, of all places. "Near a beach." A step. "We could go surfing." Another. "That'd be something new. But wiping out might hurt a _bit._"_

_Elena's waist hit the railing._

"_Gwen, move. What are you doing?"_

_She looked so pathetically weak and scared. Crushable… My fingers twitched._

_Tires screeched to a stop. A door popped open. "There you two are!" an exasperated Miranda said, good humoured. That changed. _

_Quickly. _

"_Gwen, you're grounded! You're under house arrest. What're you thinking, sneaking away like this! What've you been up to?"_

_I didn't acknowledge her, but my back stiffened. Elena's eyes darted to and fro. I smirked wildly at her. "We're only talking," I announced cheerfully, allowing her to escape after an eternity…_

* * *

The sun was rising this time around and the water instead glistened with the promise of rays of sunshine. I ran my hands over the bridge railing, something like content swelling in me. I felt like screaming to the lake a giant thank you.

It was the first time I'd been back to stand on Wickery Bridge since Miranda and Grayson's unfortunate accident and it gave me no small pleasure. If they hadn't driven down this road, I'd still be trapped under their reign. Things would be drastically different.

I would never _not _be rejoicing over their absence in my life.

Not that I could voice this opinion, because I was the only one who had it. The Gilberts had been prominent, highly respectable, Founder's Family members on the Town Council. Theirs was a great loss.

_Aaaannnndd _cue fake tears!

I rolled my eyes.

Getting kicked out of their funeral proceedings had been the absolute worst moment of entire life. Definitely the worst.

NOOOTTT.

More like best bloody day ever.

Happily, I pushed away from the edge and began to walk towards town. Idly, I picked at the tattering gauze around my hands. They were stained with blood and dirt, no longer a pristine white. I had a sneaking suspicion that the equally sneaky doctors had purposely made the stuff such a pure colour in an effort to monitor one's activities when they were supposed to be resting.

Of course, the gauze would've been more effective if I'd listened to the advice of not doing too much, but it couldn't be helped. I was a busy person. Had things to do, places to explore… I couldn't very well sleep.

I was supposed to be helping Elena and Bonnie pass out those flyers in Town Square. Elena had, after all, mentioned it. I would take her up on that offer. I had nothing better to do and there was a bonus in that I got the opportunity to creep Elena out. Plus Bonnie, I guessed.

Though I didn't understand how they could stand to do this work. And I would be helping them! I blanched. Yay for volunteers and all, but passing out flyers wasn't exactly environmentally friendly. I was a huge fan of my not polluted forest and I'd prefer if it stayed that way. The alive animals were awesome, too.

Why couldn't we vocally advertise the Night of the Comet Festival instead? It would save paper, and therefore trees and money. Besides, about half the people we'd be giving flyers to were going to turn around and throw them on the ground. Who knew where the colourful papers would end up then?

Not in the recycling bin!

I moodily picked at a thread on the gauze. My hands were still throbbing like I'd just hurt them. The sounds of people milling about in the Town Square reached my ears. I didn't understand why they were already here. The stupid event wasn't until tonight.

When I finally stole a look at Elena and Bonnie, I balefully skipped over to them and pretended to be friendly and happy.

They were talking about Stefan and how he hadn't called.

_What _a shocker.

I nicked a handful of the flyers from Elena. "Ugh, you're still on about Stefan? I'm telling you, he's killing cute little bunnies. I've seen them in the forest! Cold and dead!" I nodded mournfully. "Do you really want to get into a relationship with someone who kills all the little Bambiis and Thumpers? Think of the scandal!"

They ignored me and I shoved a flyer at some random person in retribution.

"The phone call is an important milestone in any relationship," Bonnie joked.

"It is, isn't it?" Elena responded with a slight smile.

"Yep," I interjected. "And the timing of the call tells how needy you are!"

Pfffftt. I had no clue what I was talking about.

Elena and Bonnie seemed to sense this, because Elena shoved me away with an eye roll. I bumped into a man and his wife and plastered on a smile.

Smile. Just smile and wave. Smile.

"Here! Have a smile!"

Wait. _What?!_

"Gah! I meant have a flyer!" I thrust a one at them in explanation. "Flyer! Sorry! Err-Have a good day! Don't throw it on the ground; put it in the recycling."

They laughed softly and shook their heads and said thanks.

I pivoted around and my awkward smile dropped. Shoving me into people wasn't cool. And they'd left me behind! I scurried to catch up.

"I'm not ready," Elena sullenly insisted.

"Ready for what?" I questioned. "You're not thinking of sleeping with Stefan, are you? Crumpets, Elena! You just met the guy."

She blushed furiously and shushed me. "No, Gwen! Stop, that wasn't what we were talking about!"

I wiped fake sweat from my forehead. "Phew. I was _worried._"

"But, I mean who is?" Bonnie asked Elena.

When would they greet me? I got that they were used to ignoring my comments and could carry on their conversations with my insertions, but a 'hi!' would've been appreciated.

"Lots of people are ready to do the deed for the first time," I stated with mock seriousness.

"Oh my God, Gwen," the confirmed Bennett witch started in on me.

"Hello to you, too!"

I gave another flyer out and called after the younger boy in only a slightly threatening manner, "You better not throw that away!"

Elena went on the offensive. "At least I put myself out there."

_Well._ "You and I- and Bonnie, mind you- have a vastly different definition of 'putting yourself out there.' Going to Damon's and—er… Stefan's house doesn't quite qualify. Especially if your excuse was checking if he was okay after that masked man dumped food over his head."

Damon. I'd still be laughing at the situation if I wasn't irritated with the vampire.

Her eyes went wide as saucers. "Who told you that?"

"Flyer?" I asked, giving 2 away to separate people. To Elena I said, "I assumed that's where you met Damon."

"Oh."

What, did she think I'd trailed her or something? That was creepy, beneath me, and she wasn't worth my time.

"You know Damon?!" Bonnie squealed.

"Jeez, Bonnie! Yes, I know Damon. We met in the forest. I was sure he was going to murder me!" I exclaimed dramatically, drawing peculiar stares. I grinned at them.

"Why do I feel like I'm the only one doing my job? This is all turned around. Elena, Bonnie- get to work!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Damon, but when I turned to get a better look, he'd vanished. I internally groaned.

I'd kill someone if I started hallucinating that idiot vampire.

We were passing by the closed down building that had previously been 'Grayson's Clinic' and I couldn't resist asking, "What are you all going to do with that building?"

Technically, it was reserved for Elena and Jeremy as the Gilbert heirs, but Jenna had control of it until the oldest turned 18. They hadn't broached the topic because it brought up too many memories-

Or something sentimental like that.

"Probably sell it, I guess," Elena mumbled. "We keep getting reports about vandalism…"

I nodded my understanding.

Those were all due to me. I broke into the old clinic from time to time. The equipment, the files, all of Grayson's work, had been more or less cleaned out a couple of weeks after the accident. The space was pretty empty and being overrun by the dust bunnies. Nothing changed except for the when I disrupted the place's suspended time.

But I couldn't help the feeling that we'd missed something. Some file, something about his extracurricular activities in the basement. Grayson would've hidden it all away…

It'd become somewhat tedious to break into the clinic when Sheriff Forbes had set a nightly patrol, so I hadn't gone in a month or two.

"Wow," I breathed out. "If my parents left something to me that had been in the family for ages, I wouldn't just toss it away." I carefully masked my cruel glee when Elena looked away, chewing her lip. "But that's just me! Everyone's… _different._"

The way I said it made it sound bad.

She was just too fun to mess with!

"Um," Bonnie gave a little, dishevelled laugh. "Back to Damon! You thought he was going to murder you?"

My expression- and outer mood- switched into something playful.

"Yep! He's related to…" my eyes darted this way and that way, "Stefan! The guy's an animal serial killer! And Damon? Out at however early in the morning, in the _woods?_ I was asking to get murdered."

"You left out the part about when you met him," Elena grumbled.

"Why would I bring it up?"

"You know, common courtesy."

"No, what's common courtesy?"

Bonnie snorted and Elena rolled her eyes at my innocent tone.

"Anyway, that's a pretty awesome way to meet someone. More exciting than you lots' meeting people. Like, how'd you officially meet Stefan?"

"I ran into him walking out of the restroom."

"And you, Bonnie? How'd you meet… Jeremy?"

"Jeremy?" she dubiously repeated.

"Hey! I couldn't think of any current crushes, so it went to guys you know. And, we all know I don't like Tyler and Matt's still being irritatingly depressed over Elena breaking up with him-" Elena winced at the reminder "—so that leaves Jeremy. At least he's only smoking pot."

The guilt riddled Elena abruptly scowled at me. "It's not just pot! You can't just keep saying…"

Elena launched into some lecture that I completely tuned out of. I took to passing around flyers. 10 minutes flew by with the Katherine double- according to Damon- talking in which I resorted to stealing some of Bonnie's stack.

This was so _boring_! _They_ were boring! I wanted to do something fun, already! I was starting to tire of messing with them. They were so predictable… It was easy to manipulate them and their reactions were the same.

And it was _so _easy to get back into their good graces. They might've been weary of me, but they liked me most of the time. After all, I didn't do things that were too bad- and if I did they were too idiotic to notice…

"Hey," I interrupted Elena, who had started in on a segment about how Jeremy's bad habits were a big deal. I waved my arms around to get her attention. In the process, my hand smacked into a low hanging tree branch.

For a split second, everything felt perfectly fine.

Until the cuts started stinging like crazy. I hissed in pain, anger boiling over. "Bloody—Crumpets—Of all things!—Oh!" I glared threateningly at the tree like I could make the thing uncomfortable. Unable to do anything else, I ripped a flyer to pieces and threw them onto the ground. "Jeez, it _hurt._"

"Oh my God, what happened to your hands?" Bonnie shouted.

Elena gasped.

I rolled my eyes. "Now you notice?"

"Gwen, when did this happen?" Elena gently snatched one of my hands, the one that I'd just banged up again and peeled off my unravelling bandage. The 3 deep gashes were disgustingly inflamed a splotchy red. Was that… _pus?_ And they were bleeding again? Oh, they hurt!

I groaned, realising my mistake. Had I used any antibiotics? I hadn't done anything to take care of the wounds. And then I'd done that stupid thing with the animal and later I'd been with Damon! I nearly smacked my forehead.

I'd gone and gotten myself an infection.

"I think I should go visit the hospital," I declared in resignation.

* * *

"Jenna, for the millionth time, you don't need to be here!" I hissed at the annoyed and fretting fake aunt. They'd already done the potentially hard part, which had been cleaning out the cuts. The skin still smarted, but it wasn't as bad as it had been.

"Clearly, I do! You might need a babysitter, too, now that I think about it!" she snapped back. "What did you do?"

"I told you," I gritted out, "I must've been sleep walking. You know I used to sleep walk."

"When you were 5! You sneak out and do God knows what these days!"

"I walk around the forest! Why do you all treat me like a criminal?" I mumbled the last part, and Jenna immediately quieted down.

Guilt was the best.

The door to our room opened and the available doctor appeared. She held a clipboard in her hands and stared intently at it. "Are you… Gwen? There's no last name here," the black haired lady said, finally looking up. She had blue eyes, darker than Damon's.

Jenna sighed. "You didn't put a last name?—It's Gilbert. Her last name."

"It isn't," I insisted. "They never officially adopted me. It's Gwen. Does Gwen Gilbert sound right to you? It's plain old weird."

"You're going to have to go with 'Gilbert' for now," the doctor stated.

I scrunched my nose at her. For someone working in Mystic Falls, I didn't recognise her. And people didn't move to Mystic Falls.

"Who are you, anyway?" I asked, not so much as rude but not politely either.

"Gwen!"

"What! I'm injured! I can't think straight," I lied, dramatically swaying as if I were woozy.

The doctor pursed her lips, casting me a disapproving look.

Oh-ho-ho. She was Ms. Serious, wasn't she?

"I'm Doctor Laughlin," she answered, her voice catching a little. That either wasn't her real last name or she'd changed it. "I'm volunteering here for a week."

Good for her.

"So it says here that you've got 6 gashes on your hands? 3 on each?" she double checked.

"Yup! I seem to have caught an infection, so if you could do your doctor hoo-doo and patch me up, that would be great."

"She _means_-" Jenna gave me a hard look "—that she would like you to _please_ do whatever you have to do."

Yeah, there was no way of making that sound nice.

"I most certainly did not."

"I'm sorry," she moaned to this Dr. Laughlin despairingly.

"It's fine. I've had to deal with far worse, I promise. I think Gwen doesn't like hospitals."

I snorted my agreement. I didn't.

"How did this happen, again?" the doctor inquired.

"I think I was sleep walking. I woke up in the woods with them." The lie rolled off my tongue.

"You haven't slept-walk since you were 5," Jenna butt in.

"Oh, how would you know? You weren't around much until Miranda and Grayson drove off the Bridge," I retorted.

If anything triggered Jenna, it was the mention of her dear sister's death. Her lips zipped closed and she stalked out of the room. I smirked briefly at her retreating back before staring unconcernedly at Dr. Laughlin.

The lady cleared her throat, squirming uncomfortably. "So, I'm going to have to stitch these. Hope you've got a high threshold for pain."

I spared the doctor a dry look. "I've been living with them for a week- give or take a few days- haven't I? I'd say my tolerance is bloody brilliant."

Dr. Laughlin's expression contorted into horror for a second, like she was remembering something terrible.

"What is it, Doctor?" I demanded in a tone that left no room for argument.

The woman took a deep, shuttering breath, almost in revulsion. "You… you certainly remind me of someone."

My light eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Oh? Someone close to you, were they?"

Suddenly, I was starving for information. I yearned to learn as much as I could about her. To be able to scout out her weaknesses and use them against her. A tingle of glee raced around inside me and I couldn't help the slight twitch of my lips.

The doctor's look became guarded, blue eyes hooded. "I don't think that's any of your business, Miss Gilbert," she stiffly commented. She grabbed her stitching stuff and briskly placed my hands where she wanted them.

"That was mean," I responded good-naturedly. I winced a bit when she stabbed the needle into my skin. The feeling of thread travelling my skin was… weird.

She worked in silence after that, leaving me extremely bored and unable to use my hands.

The minutes dragged by, and then Dr. Laughlin finally finished. She wound new white gauze around my hands and told me, "The stitches are dissolvable; you should be completely healed up within 2 weeks. Change your bandages every night and take one of these-" she held up a bottle "—every morning. _Do not_ do anything to upset your injuries."

Well, no duh, doc.

I sardonically saluted.

When she'd finished her job, I flounced to the door. In passing, I spitefully sang, "You should work on your lying, Dr. _Laughlin_."

Once outside, Jenna ordered, "Get in the car, Gwyneth."

I fleetingly debated ignoring her, but then shrugged. It was going to be a long day no matter what I chose.

* * *

**_Soooo Josette made an appearance! :D I'm mostly following the storyline, but this is Gwen, so I feel she should have her own side adventures. Hopefully, you guys feel the same way. I LOVE YOU ALL *bear hug*_**

**_Lemme know what you think! Review, follow, favourite, if you want :D Bye!_**

**_PS. Have I mentioned that I love Kai?! *hint hint*_**


	6. The Story-Teller

_**Heyy sorry for the late update. It's been a busy month but here! Enjoy! :D**_

_**And thanks for all the follows, favourites, and reviews! They're always welcome and appreciated**_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**The Story-Teller**

_The greatest thing about the Gilbert house was their roof. It was peaceful, the view was great at night especially, and it distracted me for an hour at most. The best thing, though, was the privacy. It was my own escape, and Miranda, Grayson, Elena, and Jeremy never guessed that I was up here. Being up on the roof made it possible to be away from them without actually leaving the house._

_ Throughout my forced attendance during the Gilbert hosted party, my mind continually drifted back to the roof. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, picking at my food while all the adults laughed at some joke Miranda had told. They'd easily coerced 13 year old Elena into it, because the teenager had decided she was a mature adult. Jeremy was here because he was required, but his sulking didn't get in trouble. _

_ My moodiness, however, Miranda and Grayson zeroed in on. It was some kind of attraction they flew to, just looking for an excuse to punish me later. I couldn't say for sure, but I thought Grayson was burning holes into my head over her spaghetti. I could feel the waves of hate. But like a good girl, I kept my head down and continued sifting through noodles that were turning cold._

_ Oh, why did I have to be here? This was basically a Town Council meeting. It was a given that Mr and Mrs. Lockwood and Mr and Mrs. Forbes were sitting at the table, but one of the Fells was here, as was Pastor Young and a bunch of other people I didn't know or care to know. No doubt they'd dismiss us, the children, when 'bedtime' came and gossip about vampires. _

_ The only upside was that John was visiting. Granted, he'd come to visit Elena because her birthday had been about 2 months ago and he could only just now visit, and that left a sour taste in my mouth. Elena didn't like him but John persisted in coming around for her birthday every year. I sort of liked John- and it had everything to do with him telling Miranda and Grayson to lay off of me- yet he only came around on occasion for my birthday.  
I was no fool, and I was beginning to have my own suspicions. My eyes flicked toward John. I hadn't failed to notice the way he continually looked to Elena when she wasn't looking. I'd call him out on being some kind of paedophile, but he didn't strike me as the type. He only stared at Elena from time to time and it was more in a paternal sort of way. Way too much to just be 'uncle' concern. _

_ No, it was more like he was missing out on her life and was sad about it. Sometimes he looked like he couldn't believe she'd gotten so big. Sometimes he looked like he regretted something. He was just so morose half the time. _

_ I had a sneaking idea that John was more than just an uncle._

_ "—school?"_

_ It got quiet. Confused, I peered up from my food. Everyone was staring at me. Miranda and Grayson were eyeing me with veiled threats, telling me not to make them look bad. Everyone else conveyed expectancy, John more so than others._

_ "What?" I lazily asked him, figuring he'd directed the question at me. _

_ "I said, how was your first week of school?" he repeated, amused._

_ My first week of school. Hmm. Boring. A waste of time. Full of annoying bodies. I pondered my answer while Miranda and Grayson's eyes narrowed into slits. Choose your answer wisely… Fine. They wanted me to put on a good impression? _

_ Tooo baaddd! _

_ "Boring!" I exclaimed with a huff, throwing my fork down with an abnormally loud clatter. I leaned forward, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. "But I'll tell you, I think I'm setting a record. John, I've managed to skip 3 school days and the school's been marking me present. Preeeetttyyy cool, right? I feel like it means I'm meant for great things."_

_ A choking sort of cough came from one of the people I didn't know, disturbing the tense silence. It almost sounded like a laugh being covered up. I followed the noise, leading me to a young male who looked like he was in his 20s. He had the wildest looking curls that I'd ever seen. The extremely short bleach blond corkscrews bounced atop his head. His eyes were pale blue. Huh. The hair and eyes didn't quite match up with the spray of freckles over his cheeks and nose._

_ I frowned at him. There was something odd about him. I couldn't put my finger on it…_

_ Miranda laughed nervously. "She's joking, _right_ Gwen?" she said sharply. _

_ "Nope!" I popped, sparing the woman a glance. "I'm 100% serious. Can't you tell? Ah, I guess you're not very perceptive."_

_ The same strangled noise came from the same male and he ducked his head to cover, picking at his noodles. I suddenly remembered that he'd been slurping spaghetti like there was no tomorrow when dinner had begun. No one had called him out on it, but the moment I dared to do the same, I was shot down. _

_ My frown turned into a glower. I pointed my fork to the corkscrew guy in accusation. "Who are you?"_

_ "Gwen!" Grayson said, on the verge of anger. "You're excused." _

_ "But-" I began to object. _

_ "That's enough," he said sternly, cutting me off._

_All I'd done was ask a question! He was weird! There was something off about him! Couldn't the idiots tell?_

"_Fine." I stood up and saluted to the table before marching away. A smirk flitted across my face, glad to be able to escape the stuffy dining room. _

_I took the stairs 2 at a time to my room, immediately dashing to the window and prying it open. I intended to be 'gone' when Miranda and Grayson came up. They'd never check the roof. Smug, my eyes shut and the breeze whisked me to a different place._

* * *

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stared up a Damon's window.

In my Mickey Mouse pyjamas.

Looking like a zombie-fied, creepy, stalker who was running on the fuels of 3 hours of sleep in a week and her latest nightmare, no doubt.

But hey, I knew I was at the right place this time! For one thing, the window _wasn't _broken and the large oak tree that was climbable loomed majestically over me. I took it upon myself to triple check these things. _And_ I went the extra mile by going all the way to the _other_ end of the house to make sure that Stefan's window was there with a tarp covering it and shattered glass on the ground.

Certain I was correct, I took to searching for little pebbles to throw at Damon's window. He had to be in his room. Sleeping maybe, but did vampires need sleep? I'd feel no guilt in waking him if he was slumbering. He'd ignored me all day yesterday. Rude.

I'd attempted to get his attention at the Night of the Comet Festival- that had been lots of drama- but he'd been busy terrorising his brother and Vicki. A time in which he pathetically went back on his word of letting Vicki tell everyone it was a vampire by compelling the memory away. Apparently Damon didn't actually want his brother to suffer and die. He wanted him to… what was it? 'Remember who he was'?

Like, okay Damon. That totally makes sense. Loads of sense.

It was my regret to inform that he'd lost some serious bad guy points. I'd whispered this solely for his ears to hear last night when Stefan had gone into the Grill looking for Elena. He'd glared as if he could burn holes into me. Then he up and disappeared. It was quickly becoming a normal occurrence between him and me.

A shame, though, because if he hadn't been ignoring me I would've helped him torment Steffy. While Jenna was lecturing me in the car on the drive back from the hospital, I'd zoned out and come up with all sorts of plans. One of the simplest had involved my wearing a scarf and another pretending to be compelled.

Alas! Damon hadn't wanted my help. Or anything to do with me.

And here I'd thought that our relationship was taking off after our little heart to heart question game.

But, that was my bad. It'd take more time. I'd just keep bothering him.

Spotting a scattered mass of small, smooth pebbles, I smiled and picked them up. Well, tried and failed a couple of times first. No one had told me how annoying sutures and bandages were when they were on your hands. The things were bloody torture devices and my hands were constantly hurting. How was I going to survive 2 weeks with these things when I could hardly get through a day?

Tiredly scrubbing at my eyes again, I threw a tiny stone at his window. A sharp pain went through my knuckles and I let out a frustrated groan. Ow. I dug my fingers into the pale skin of my arms.

When Damon didn't immediately appear at his window, I threw in the towel and chunked all of the rocks in my hand at his window. They hit their glass target in a loud clatter.

… and then they rained back down on me.

Ha. _No._

Mischievously, I said, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" I grinned, sure that would get a response.

It didn't.

Pouting, I waited a couple of seconds before whisper-shouting, "Damon!"

I crossed my arms over my chest and impatiently tapped my foot against the grass. He was in there. He was on his bed or something- somewhere in his room. What was he doing, making me stand out here like a fool? "I can hear you breathing, idiot!" I said, focusing my attention to the sounds around me.

As I did so, I had to close my eyes because my vision began to blur. It happened like that all the time. Whenever I focused on one sense, it dimmed my others for a second. By the time I'd opened them again, everything was back to normal and my skin was tingling.

Nooootting weird about me, no sir.

"You suck at scaring me," I murmured, slowly turning in my spot. Damon stood behind me wearing only boxers. I put my hands on my hips. "Funny, I didn't take you to be the sort that sleeps without a shirt on."

He was handsome, nothing I hadn't noticed before, but I only glanced at his muscled and toned body (he'd give sculptors a run for their money). I much preferred to grin in delight at his swimming blue eyes and his wild black hair. Don't get me wrong, he was easy on the eyes, but I liked the upper part of him better- specifically, his face.

"Funny, I didn't take you to be the sort that goes to someone's house and wakes them up at 4 in the morning. In their pyjamas." Damon pretended to think. "Oh, wait! I did." He scowled at me and my grin widened.

"I figured you'd missed my company since you, you know, ignored me all day yesterday," I replied sweetly. "I went to the hospital, in case you didn't read my texts."

I'd sent, like, 10.

"If I read your texts, then you can't say I ignored you."

"Still applies. You didn't reply."  
Damon's face screwed up, peeved. He ruffled his hair, making it more rowdy, and asked, "What brings you to my humble abode, Winnie?"

Awww! He'd used the nickname he'd given me. That counted as progress, right?

"I had a nightmare, so I can't sleep anymore," I answered nonchalantly. "I was hoping you could entertain me."

He abruptly adopted a poker face. "Entertain you."

"Well, yeah. The way you did the other night."

"The night when you stormed away?"

"Right."

"And you blacked out?"

"Yup!"

"And how it led to my discovery that you're actually a funny, weird, insane ball of nuisance?"

"Oh! You called me funny!" I gushed.

"Not in a good way."

"Damon, stop acting like you don't like me."

"Gwen," he mimicked, "I don't like you."

"You do."

"I don't."

"I can hear it in your voice. And the way you act around me. And then you're still here, talking to me. I might get on your nerves, but you like me." I nodded my certainty.

We stared at each other in the ensuing silence. Damon was doing his best death glare and I was daring him to correct me.

Finally, Damon grudgingly admitted, "Fine. I do."

"See? We're friends!" I grinned cheekily. We could be friends, right? If we talked and hung out, and did stuff together… Did that qualify as friendship?

Damon's eyes rolled, but I could've sworn I saw a hint of amusement at my enthusiasm in his face. "So, do you have a lot of these nightmares?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"A perfectly sound one, considering you came here at _4 in the morning._"

I scuffed a sneaker clad foot against the grass, looked at my hands. I didn't care that it was so early, why did he? "You are a vampire and I'm not hallucinating. Why should you care if it's 4 in the morning or 4 in the afternoon?"

"Common courtesy? Even vampires need sleep on occasion."

"Damon, that doesn't make sense. You're the not dead dead." I sighed, tipping my head up to look at the dark sky.

"I don't know! We sleep. Just like humans."

It was so pretty outside. I forgot about the pain in my hands and stared at the twinkling stars. Beautiful… Oh, and Damon's house was farther from civilisation! The stars would be more visible than they were from the Gilbert's roof!

"Can we go onto your roof?" I suddenly asked, smiling brightly at Damon.

He tiredly ran a hand over his face. "The roof?"

"Yeah, you know, that thing on the tops of buildings?" I joked.

His expression morphed into reluctant amusement and I couldn't help but smirk. In triumph. I was _so_ winning him over.

"Thanks, Winnie. I had no idea what a roof was," he said sarcastically.

"Didn't think so," I replied sweetly, then looked down at my hands. "Oh crumpets. How am I supposed to get up there with these?" That doctor with the fake last name had told me not to rip them or anything.

"You went to the hospital?"

"I was forced to. Got an infection… I tried to tell you earlier but someone wasn't listening!"

"I was busy."

"Yeah, busy ignoring me and failing at carrying out your nefarious plans."

"I'm sorry, I thought you said you wanted to go to the roof."

"I do."

"Well your insulting me isn't going to get you there."

"Did I hurt liwwle Damey's feelings?" I asked, as if I was talking to a child.

…

"Okay, Damon, if you keep making that stupid frowny face at me, you'll be frozen that way. Forever!"

…

"I'm sorry? Not that I mean it…"

…

"You're not going to walk away from me again, are you?—You really are a child!"

…

"Fine! I'll stand out here until the sun comes up! I'll even skip school for it! You're injuring my academic success!"

…

"I'll show you the pictures I take! Free of charge!" I yelled in a last ditch attempt. Gah! Was he even worth the effort?

But it made Damon stop in his tracks. He turned around, a smirk on his face. "Deal."

…

"I feel like this was your plan all along," I grumbled as Damon and I walked side by side. "Then again, you're not smart enough for that."

Damon tilted his head down to eye me. He contemplated saying something, mouth opening and closing. After several failed attempts, he settled on, "You're a lot to put up with."

"Thanks. I can feel your love."

He shrugged, fixing his eyes back on our path forward. "It's only sort of annoying."

"Aww!" I reached up and ruffled Damon's hair, making his bedhead worse. I might've been taller than the minority, but I still had to strain a little to carry out the action.

The vampire slapped my hand away. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"It's fun! Huh. You're without a shirt."

"And you're in your pyjamas."

"Which is actual nightwear."

"At least I wasn't without any clothes."

"I trust you would've had a fraction of politeness to put something on before you came out of your tower."

"It's a _bedroom_."

"Riiiiight, and coppers are properly named police."

"I'm not even going to go there right now."

How easy it was to fall into a conversation with Damon shocked me. He was the first person I'd met that had the ability to carry on words with me. Everyone else failed to obtain my interests. Was it because Damon was new? Because he was a vampire?

Not that that had anything to do with why he was fun to be around. It was because he was almost as crazy as me. I got to do whatever my heart wished. Well, so far.

I got the feeling that it was one of those short lived things that burn bright and go out with a bang. And it'd be quite the explosion when things came to an end.

* * *

When it was time for him to go, I literally shoved Damon off the Gilberts' roof. As he stumbled off the edge, I laughed and he cursed. He twisted mid-fall, threw an obscene gesture, and landed on his two feet. I pouted.

"There's something wrong with you," Damon shouted.

"Um, I can hear you if you talk normally, too," I pointed out.

"What's wrong with you?" the vampire rephrased, this time in an indoor voice. Ironic, since we were outside, but whatever.

"What? You didn't get hurt. Man up, vampire!"

He rolled his eyes and I gave him a thumbs up. Damon sped away, leaving me with a dilemma. He'd gotten me onto the roof. Under normal circumstances, I'd swing into my window, which was open and ready for me to return to.

Little problem—I'd forgotten about the situation with my hands.

In a stint of malice- towards the world, towards myself, towards anyone honestly- I chose to act impulsively.

On the bright side, I got into my room without ripping my stitches. Not so bright side? I broke my lamp against the wall. Which I may or may not have thrown. My eyes landed on the stack of photographs and I snatched up the top one. The black and white photo of a smiling Damon stared up at me, further setting me off for no good reason. I crumpled his grinning face into a tight ball and chucked it at my door. And then some of my drawings ended up ripped into a billion shreds. And so it continued, blind rage guiding me.

Once I was done, I straightened up, breathing harsh. As if a switch had flipped, I felt intensely calm, indifferent. Half of my room was in ruins, and I didn't care. Stepping over a piece of glass from the lamp, I threw on the first clothes I saw in my closet- a shirt with a cute picture of a whale and said 'oh whale' and faded purple jean shorts with loose threads. A beanie that matched my bottoms hung limply against the door handle, having been misplaced during my little tantrum, and I put that on, too.

Ignoring the damage that littered the floor, I grabbed my bag and skipped out the door, slamming it shut behind me.

"Gwen, what were those noises?" Jenna questioned when I got to the kitchen.

"The screams of my victims," I deadpanned, stealing the toast she'd made for herself. Based on her tart look, she was still peeved about what happened yesterday and my leaving in the middle of her lecture.

Or it was only over her toast.

With an air of arrogance, I made a big show of taking a bite from the piece of bread.

"That's not funny. What were you doing?"

"Jjjjjennna! Why does this feel like an interrogation?" I hopped onto one of the counter stools, moping. Possessed with a fun idea, I balanced my chin on my hands, mischief sparking. "Do we need to have another talk? I kind of zoned out yesterday. And then I left… Oops. Maaaybe not."

Jenna raised an eyebrow. "Do you need to be interrogated?"

It's like everything I said in this house flew over the other resident's heads. What would they say if I claimed to have murdered someone?

They'd probably believe it… hah…

I leaned back, eyes widening innocently. "Why would I need that?"

"I was talking with the sheriff earlier. She said you were walking down the road with a shovel. Anything you want to explain?"

"It's a person's right to wander around with a shovel," I leisurely stated, taking another bite of toast.

"She also said she got a call about dead bodies," Jenna continued, narrowing her eyes a bit.

"Oh yeah, she did mention something about that. Did anything turn up?" I asked, feigning interest.

"No, nothing, but she did say you were acting strange," my fake aunt said, barely hidden suspicion leaking into her words.

Okay, okay. I had to make this little issue go away. Fix it, get Jenna off my back. No problem. Mentally, I took a deep breath, and then I pasted on a guilty look. "Okay, yeah, I might've been a little out of it."

"Is that so?"

It took great restraint not to roll my eyes at her sarcastic tone. I pushed my toast around my stolen plate, continuing my charade. "I'd just… gotten into a fight with my… my friend," I lied, conjuring up tears on the spot.

At my surprising stint of 'truthfulness'- because I was almost never honest- shock shown evident on Jenna's face. "I didn't know you had any friends." It appeared that she had suffered from foot-in-mouth syndrome, because she hurried to continue, "I mean—oh I'm sorry that wasn't what I meant-"

"No," I hurriedly cut in, wiping stray tears from my eyes. I hoped it wasn't too over the top. They'd never seen me cry before. It was kind of out of character. Nonetheless… "It's true. He is kind of the first _real_ friend I've made and I completely messed things up."

"Oh," Jenna spluttered, at a loss.

"Um, anyway. I should get going. I know you didn't mean to make me feel horrible yesterday, it's not your fault." I couldn't help but slip that in as I slid out of my seat and rotated around to leave. It was the perfect opportunity, and Jenna would feel guilty.

Wiping the rest of the evidence from my insincere waterworks away, a smirk appeared on my face. That was easy.

* * *

As I had a dreadful problem with keeping track of time, I discovered to my horror and misfortune that I'd arrived at school an hour before the doors would think of opening. In my temporary grief, I listlessly wandered to the absolutely empty stoner pit. I squatted in the corner against the wall and the bleachers and dragged out my sketchbook, flipping open to the next empty page.

My black pen glided over the blank paper of its own accord. Drawing had become like second nature to me. It allowed my mind to wander, even at the worst of times. Being able to escape had proven a useful skill, not one I'd had to use since Miranda and Grayson's death. Now I mostly used it to waste time away. Being constantly aware could get boring…

I scowled at the dirty school wall when an image of Damon casually arose in my thoughts. I'd shown my photographs to him and he'd actually complimented them. It was weird. _He _was weird. I'd shoved him off the roof and he didn't retaliate. I was crueller than him in many ways and he was still putting up with me.

Not that I'd given him much of a choice… Or that I'd care if he didn't want to be around me. I'd pester him either way until I was bored; his attitude was simply surprising me. He handled me in such a 'eh, whatever' way that I kept coming back, to push his limits. Would everything I did still roll off his shoulders if I carried out my threat to stab him?

Oh well. I was intent on pushing his buttons for personal pleasure until he snapped. And then I'd keep going, and going…

"Gwen? What are you doing down here?" a voice asked from above.

Frowning, I craned my neck up to see Vicki. When had she gotten here? People were hanging out in clumps; Jeremy was sitting alone on the opposite end of the bleacher smoking. When had they arrived?

"What do you think? I came to smoke," I sarcastically replied. She knew as well as I did that I'd never smoke. Alcohol was more my thing.

"Funny," she mumbled morosely, holding two forgotten tickets in her hand. "That's a creepy drawing."

My drawing! I'd forgotten. I looked down, seeing a vivid shot of part of my nightmare. Flames licked the pages, and it was as if the heat that would come from them was real. In the centre, though, a charred shell of the red headed woman was reaching out. Her face was twisted into something grotesque.

I'd dreamt that she'd been clawing after me, intent on dragging me into the flames with her and the already dead man.

With a slight shake of the head, I ripped the inked page out and carelessly let it drop to the ground.

"Do you not want it or something?" Vicki questioned, leaning down and plucking it up.

I shrugged. "Don't need it." I turned gleaming eyes at the druggie. "What's up with you and Jeremy?"

"What?"

"You and Jeremy," I repeated, tossing my head in acknowledgment to the moping character. "It's not cool to lead him on."

"I'm not leading him on!" she instantly protested. "I'm trying to be friends with him."

"Right," I drawled uncaringly. "That's why you want to go to see-" I spared a quick glance at the concert tickets "—the Posers with him."

"Is it any of your business?" she snapped, making it obvious that I'd hit a nerve.

I held up my hands in mock surrender, keeping the smirk off my face. "No, not at all. But- and I'm not saying anything else- wouldn't it be better to go see the band with Tyler?"

"He doesn't like them," she muttered bitterly. I got the feeling that she'd asked him first.

"_Oh. _And he wouldn't go just for you? Huh…" I said thoughtfully, gleeful inside to know that it would make her think, make her doubt her choice. I gathered up my things and stood, dusting off my shorts. "Well, bye."

I skipped to the exit, halting at Jeremy. In my best announcer's voice, I said, "And if we head this way, we view the _rare_ brooding Jeremy Gilbert, suffering from a broken heart. He is a majestic creature of nature that does not enjoy-"

"And here we see the unnaturally hyperactive Gwen, who continues to plunder through the deepest pits of life and disturb everyone else," he returned flatly, ruining the fun.

"Come on, Jeremy, cheer up," I demanded, lower lip jutted out.

He rolled his eyes and pulled a big fat grin that was clearly fake. I gave him a thumbs up and he wiped it off, bringing the rolled up stuff to his mouth. Was that pot?

"So where were you last night?" he questioned.

"Who, me?" My eyes widened innocently. "I was at your house."

Jeremy scoffed. "Yeah, for a couple of hours maybe. I heard you leave."

"Okay," I said flatly.

_Bored._

"And it was, like, 3:30. I don't know when you came in, but you snuck out."

"Yes, I know. I was there."

His patience ebbed. "Well what happened?"

Irritation at his curiosity ate at me. Couldn't he mind his own business? "What happened when?"

When he huffed in frustration, I grinned cheekily. He carefully enunciated, "What happened when you left early this morning?"

"Oohh then! I wasn't sure what you were talking about." I tapped my chin. "Let's see… Ah—nothing."

"Gwen."

"Jeremy."

"Fine. What'd you do to your hands?"

I glanced down at my bandages. "That, my dear fake brother, did not happen last night."

"Yeah, I know that," he said harshly.

"Wasn't sure. We are still talking about last night and earlier, right?"

"No—Yes-" Jeremy stopped, curling his fingers into tight fists.

Before he could sort things out and get the conversation back on track, I said, "So why did you have to muck things up when going to see the Posers with Vicki could help you when her over? You could've spent time with her, and you could've gotten closer to her. Not that it's any of my business…"

At this point, Jeremy really did look ready to pummel something- or someone. "You're right, it's not your business, so butt out."

I laughed. "No need to get so angry, Jer. I'm sure your mummy and daddy wouldn't approve of that relationship anyway… Not that you seem to care about what they want anyway…" I couldn't help the small thrill that went through me when the Gilbert froze. "Bye bye lover boy."

Then I left him there to stew.

* * *

After skipping the majority of my classes— save Tanner's, because the guy had made a full recovery from the mystery man's assault if you took away the fact that he jumped at loud noises (a fact I most certainly found out from trying)—I popped up at cheerleading practise. It was a habit I'd picked up last year because I'd been bored and it irritated Elena and Caroline. I was astoundingly good at picking up the routines and Caroline perpetually badgered me to join the squad. With my constant refusal, it upset her all over again to see me at the practise.

Today I had an added mission. I had to ask Bonnie about those numbers she kept doodling. Her repeated drawings of 8, 14, and 22 were verging on crazy. What was so important that it was worth obsessing over?

Spotting Bonnie in the front row stretching on the grass, I plopped down beside her. The Bennett witch barely glanced at me when she jokingly asked, "Planning on joining this year?"

"Definitely not. I'd get bored."

"You and boredom. Not everything is boring, you know." She switched the leg she was stretching.

"Yes they are. Not at first, but eventually. Everything gets dull."

"For you."

"Well, duh. We aren't talking about everyone else, Bonnie."

"Mhmm..." she murmured. "It's funny… I got a feeling that you'd show up today and say something like that."

"Maybe it's your witchy-woo-woo coming into play."

Bonnie snickered. "My witchy-woo-woo?"

I nodded. "Yep. You're doing your prediction thing. Maybe that's why you kept writing 8, 14, 22 in your notebook during class."

That caught her off guard. "You... You saw that?"

"No I was reading your mind," I bit. "Duh, I saw. You were sitting right next to me."

She chuckled nervously. "Sorry. Of course you'd notice."

"Yeah so what's with the numbers?" I persisted.

"I don't know," she moaned miserably.

"They must be important…"

"Come on, you're not seriously buying into the witch stuff, are you?"

"I wouldn't put it aside so easily, Bonnie. It's bloody foolish to."

"But it's—it's insane!" she spluttered, arms flying around in expression. "Witches aren't real."

"You're saying that, but how do you explain all the things you've predicted? And doesn't your family originate from Salem? Connect the dots, little witch."

Bonnie scowled. "Don't call me that."

I shrugged. Someone cleared their throat loudly behind me and Bonnie jerked her head up before shrieking and jumping to whoever it was. "Oh my God! You're here!" she squealed. Ah, it was Elena.

"I decided it was time," Elena said, and apparently she'd noticed me because she added, "Hey, Gwen. Are you joining the team this year?"

"Agh, it's like you and Bonnie share thoughts!" I said.

"She's not," the witch answered for me.

"Another year of disappointment for Caroline," Elena teased.

The two girls sat back on the ground near me and stretched some more. This time, I joined in.

"So, you're coming to dinner tonight. At 8," Elena commanded Bonnie. "Oh, and you can come, too, Gwen."

"Gee, thanks for inviting me to a dinner that's happening at the house I live in," I said drily.

"I am?" Bonnie questioned, all on board.

"Yep. You, me, Gwen, and Stefan."

Steffy! I could mess with him. I'd heard about that awesome catch he'd made when Tyler threw the ball at him. I'd make him squirm and be all paranoid. And I could invite Damon!

Bonnie's previously accepting tone warped. "Tonight's no good," she tried.

"It's not going to work," I sang.

"Hey, have you guys seen Caroline? She hasn't responded to any of my texts," Bonnie quickly said, attempting to distract Elena.

"Don't change the subject, Bonnie Bennett," my fake sister lightly reprimanded.

Uninteresting in their conversation, I grappled with my bag and eventually shimmied out dirtied sketchbook out. Tapping the pencil I'd taken out against my chin, my mind gradually drifted to someone I hadn't thought of in years. The young guy that hadn't fit. He'd been so out of place, yet no one had noticed except me…

The moment I began putting on the finishing touches, loud country music flooded my ears. I cringed, fighting the urge to lash out. I hated country music. I followed the trail of disgusting sound, finding Caroline leaning over to kiss someone in a sleek black convertible with the hood down. I was no car person (Damon's car had the model type or whatever on it), but I knew that whatever kind it was, it was expensive.

I straightened, straining to see more of the person in the driver's seat. All I could see were short corkscrew curls of Kool-Aid red hair.

The blonde, who had missed all her classes but showed up for cheerleading (her priorities were messed up; she should've skipped the whole day), hopped out of the car with a smug look. I noted her sudden interest in wearing a light scarf even though she'd never donned one except during winter. As Caroline sauntered over to her teammates, a tingle shot through me and a pull I couldn't describe had me determinedly attempting to get a good look at the driver.

There was something so, so familiar…

As if sensing my watching him, the Kool-Aid guy turned his neck to meet my curious gaze. I doubled over in a split second burst of shock, gone as fast as it had come. His eyes were an impossible velvety black, though they didn't blend with his pupils. They were as peculiar as my purple eyes.

Seeing the spray of freckles that spanned the area between his high cheekbones made it all click. My eyes darted down to my drawing and back to him, narrowing in suspicion.

The eyes, they hadn't been right, they weren't supposed to be blue. The blond corkscrew hair had been so wrong... The bright, unnatural red suited him so much better… He'd been an oddity. He hadn't fit. He wasn't supposed to be at the Gilbert held Founding Family dinner all those years ago.

This guy Caroline was with had been the fake.

Like he knew my thoughts, Kool-Aid guy smirked. I shot to my feet, forgetting about my sketchbook that promptly plummeted to the ground with a plop. In my march to him, I bumped past the head cheerleader, who made a protest that fell upon deaf ears.

The closer I got to the stranger, the odder I felt. A foreign sensation was creeping up on me, something I'd never experienced before. It was making my hair stick up on end and it made that tugging sensation in my stomach return with a vengeance. Except this time, it felt more intense, like a huge knot was writhing around inside me.

I didn't like it.

For whatever reason, he let me approach, the same arrogant half smile pasted on his face. When I got to his car, I leaned against the door and stared intently at him. Where else had I seen him? It was more than that one time at the dinner. I'd seen him before… I recognised him…

And why in the bloody world was he letting me stare at him?

_Jeez._

"Who are you?" I wondered aloud, echoing my question from all those years ago.

He arched an eyebrow. "Sorry, have we met before?"

Annoyance fired through me in sparks and his radio abruptly died, taking with it the horrible country. The tension in my gut lessened in response. His black orbs shot to his music and back to me. "Are you serious? I literally just got this car," he complained.

_Oh my crackers._

"Sucky investment," I commented with amusement. "Anyway, you're a bad liar. You know me. I know you. I just can't remember all of it…" I wracked my brain.

_Something's missing! _I screamed angrily at myself.

"Figure it out, Lit-" the guy stopped short, biting his tongue.

If anything was going to give him away, it was the obvious nickname he'd been about to call me. Gah. Who. Was. He?

For whatever reason, I chose to step away and allow Kool-Aid guy drive away. I was bursting with questions, and I was bowing down to a compulsion that had come out of nowhere to let him go.

Something that disappeared along with the weird hair- on- end feeling the second the stranger was gone. It was like they'd never even been mine. He'd taken them away with him… How could he do that? Unless…

Biting my lip, I stomped over to my belongings and snatched my phone. I punched in Damon's number and ignored the inquiring looks from Caroline, Elena, and Bonnie. The stupid little vampire let it ring and ring. Then it stopped.

Okay, was he messing with me or was he angry about my shoving him from the roof?

Unreasonable anger flared within me. I needed information. He'd been around for years. He had to know. _He_ was the one that'd said he wanted to be my friend. Well, he should be a friend and pick up his bloody phone!

Freaking jerk.

During my 10th call, I kicked the bleachers and glared at Stefan while he ran around the field with the rest of the football players. True to his word, he wasn't half bad. With him on the team, the Timberwolves officially stood a chance at winning every game of the season.

Yay for us.

Damon still refused to answer.

Enraged, I flung my phone at the bleachers, where it shattered to pieces. I shrugged, an idea sparking in my head. I darted around the field and landed near Stefan's things, which he'd conveniently left out in the open. He was just asking for someone to take his things… So I took his phone.

And guess who I called?

Damon.

Ah, it was just me. _Damey_ answered for his _Steffy._

"To what do I owe the displeasure?" he asked conversationally.

"Hey, Damon! I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not Stefan. You ignored me. That's so mean. I called and called, but you pick up for your brother- whom you claim to loathe- on the first ring. I thought we were friends." I continued picking through Stefan's belongings, putting on a calm air when anger was bubbling beneath the surface.

"God, you really are persistent. It's almost creepy." He sounded like he'd reclined in a seat and put his legs on a desk.

"Yeah, I need something," I said impatiently. "Like, now. I'm experiencing a teensy amount of motivation."

"Why should I help you?"

"Didn't you say we were friends?" I questioned, keeping my frustration out of my tone.

"That was before you were provoking me in the woods," he returned.

"To get you to face things," I pointed out with disinterest.

"And then you considered cutting my tongue."

"But I didn't. Doesn't that count for something?"

"You also broke my fingers."

"You healed. Are you trying to tell me all the things I did in order? Because I broke your fingers then talked about your tongue."

"More recalling your wrongs-" I scoffed. Calling them wrong depended on your opinion. "—You pushed me off a roof, too. Can't forget that."

"Yeah, there'd be something seriously wrong with your memory if you forgot that," I remarked lazily.

Okay, seriously, why did Stefan have all this school stuff when he didn't have to worry about passing?

"And that's only the major things you've done to me," Damon stated.

"Need I mention that you continue to talk to me after the fact? I did those things and you came over and we had a nice little chat. I didn't hear you complaining when I pushed you off the roof. You're doing the whining _now._"

"Yeah well," he grumbled. "You're surprisingly good at drawing the attention away from your questionable actions."

I smirked. I happened to have a talent with getting on peoples' good side when I needed to. In all honesty, it made absolutely no sense. But I supposed it could all be boiled down to… _charm._

"It's a gift," I said lightly. "Hey, you think Stefan will miss his phone? I broke mine."

"You broke your phone between your million calls and grabbing my brother's?"

…The scepticism was strong in this one.

I waved a hand dismissively. Pointless, since Damon couldn't see it. "Threw it at the bleachers- Wait, why are we talking about this? I'm wwwwaaaaayyy off topic."

"Oh joy, I'd love to know why you were determined to talk."

Ignoring the heavy dose of _sass_ in his tone, I said, "So, you're, like, a bajillion years old-"

"Thanks."

"—AND I thought, 'who better to ask than the vampire who, might I remind, _again, _said he wanted to be friends. So do you know of any other supernaturals?"

"Apart from vampires?"

"No duh, Damon."

"You know, I might not want to answer if you keep talking to me like that."

My face screwed up in agitation. "Then I'll ask Stefan. Oh, and in the process I might let it drop your little plan to rescue Katherine. Wouldn't that muck up your progress? Ruin your big reveal?"

"Witches," he grudgingly admitted after a moment of silence.

"Really?" I mock gasped. "I had no clue! It's not like you brought it up when you told me your whole plan or that I know Bonnie."

"Then don't ask questions you already know the answer to!" he fired back.

"I'm talking about other supernaturals, idiot. Werewolves, fae, banshees, kitsune, etcetera etcetera."

"If they do, I've never met any," Damon stated tartly.

Great. Back to fantastic square one it was. Even the vampire couldn't give me what I wanted. He was bloody useless.

"Thanks," I muttered, terribly disappointed by the dead end. But then I remembered something else- "Oh! Elena dearest is holding a dinner shindig tonight, 8 o'clock. The Gilbert House. It's supposed to make Bonnie like Stefan, from what I gathered. Thought you might want to come."

I was soooo nice.

"Is this your idea of a peace offering?"

_Jeez, no. _I had nothing to 'make peace' for. That followed the same rules of apology. Nonetheless, I grinned, halting in my activity of snapping all the pencils I could find in Stefan's bag. The feast would be much better with Damon there. That'd create chaos. Fun.

"I'll take that as a yes, you'll be there. You've dessert duty!"

* * *

My room was a wreck. I hadn't realised how badly I'd ruined everything. It was only now that I'd broken my lamp- a lamp I liked. Not cool. I'd ruined some of my best drawings. Why couldn't I have ruined someone else's room? I didn't want to clean up everything.

"ELENA!" I hollered from my doorway.

A second later, her head popped out from her bedroom. What? When had she gotten there? "Gwen."

"Can you help me with something?" I gestured awkwardly to my bandaged hands. "It's kind of hard for me to do."

Something akin to pity flashed in her eyes. "Sure," she said, walking forward. "What is it?"

"Well earlier today, I tripped and when I tried to balance myself, I knocked my lamp over and it broke and a bunch of the papers on my desk went down with me," I lied. "I can't exactly clean it all up; I need help."

She stopped at the entrance to my room, eyes widening to the size of saucers. "Whoa," she breathed.

"Yeah, as you can see, it looks a bit like a war zone…"

Elena bit her lip. "I've got 30 minutes before Bonnie comes over.

"You'll help?" I asked, hope gleaming in my eyes. She nodded, albeit uncertainly, but it was agreement nonetheless. "Great! Okay, you can clean this side and I'll clean over here."

Of course I gave her the messier side.

The good person she was, she immediately got to work. I dawdled, slowly sinking to the ground to assess my artwork. Some of them were only ripped in half and would be easy to put back together. The others would need more work. And lots of tape. Lots and lots of tape…

I gathered two stray pieces and easily found their matches. I knew my work like the back of my hand. I fingered the red inked pages. One of them had the man and woman lying dead. A pool of blood trailed to the end of the paper. The other one depicted a cracked open door and a small arm reaching forward to open it further. Shadows haunted the page, but there were blobs of blurred red, like they were lights on a path.

My brow furrowed in thought, and I grabbed a couple of other pieces. One that was inside the room, a bed on the far side, the red orbs flying everywhere. One of steep steps leading into darkness, and I could nearly smell something putrid, decay. It was odd, considering that it was only a piece of paper. They were _drawings. _ Another had steam curling from a bath.

It was almost as if…

"Gwen, what is with your artwork? I swear, every time I see one it gets darker and darker," Elena said, interrupting my thoughts. She held one that had come out shockingly unscathed for my viewing pleasure. It was the one I'd drawn a couple weeks back of the red haired woman reaching toward someone in a bed… and the pillow. Why did she have a pillow in her hand?

A foreign sensation made my stomach churn uncomfortably. What was that?

"It's almost as if you're telling a story," Elena said somewhat testily when I reacted by snatching my drawing back.

"And each drawing is a panel…" I muttered, the dots already connecting in my mind.

Filled with the motivation to work, I frantically began sorting through the papers. Jeez, why was I such an idiot? I cursed myself for having destroyed the things.

But then again, if I hadn't, I wouldn't have made this _monumental _discovery.

The doorbell rang, and Elena lunged out of my room with the last remains of my beautiful lamp. I groaned; I supposed I could save this for a later time… It wasn't going anywhere. Moving fast, I gathered up my black and white photos and placed them back into the top desk drawer. I unwrinkled the one of Damon's grinning face, pleased that I no longer felt anything towards it.

By the time I bounded down the stairs into the kitchen, Bonnie was confessing her worries to Elena while the lookalike was hastily pouring the take out pasta into more presentable looking bowls. I bounced over and picked up one of the noodles, popping it into my mouth, much to the dismay of a disapproving Elena. I was tempted to stick my hand into the bowl and ruin the food for everyone just to annoy her.

Alas, I wanted Stefan and Damon to come over.

Bonnie was saying, "—I'm obsessed with numbers. 3 numbers. I keep seeing 8, 14, and 22. How weird is that?"

Old news!

Elena leaned forward as if she were going to say something important, but then she stated in a joking tone, "Maybe we should play the lottery!"

I choked on my noodle and Bonnie stared at her best friend flatly. Hacking, I slid past the two girls, grabbed a cup, and filled it with water. I greedily gulped it down. Elena hadn't said something like that in months. She was getting her sense of humour back!

The girl giggled before saying, "Have you talked to your Grams?"

Bonnie shook her head. "She's just gonna say it's because I'm a witch. I don't wanna be a witch! Do you wanna be a witch?"

"I don't want to be a witch," Elena said.

"I'd want to be a witch," I said eagerly. "Then again, witches do seem to have a problem with getting roped into other things…"

Both of them looked at me. "What are you talking about?"

I looked up at them with a mask of innocence. "Who, me? Nothing, ah, nothing at all."

Elena resumed pouring our dinner into another bowl, but Bonnie continually glanced at me with paranoia. "Putting it in a bowl isn't fooling anybody," she said to Elena.

"Okay, serving spoons… Where are the serving spoons?" the brown haired girl asked no one in particular, frantically whirling around.

Without any hesitation, Bonnie said, "Middle drawer on your left."

A questioning glance, the drawer opened, and a 'I told you so' look from Bonnie.

"Okay, so you've been in this kitchen, like, a thousand times."

I snorted and brought my hands up, wiggling my fingers as if I was casting a spell. "Witchy woo woo, Bonnie. It's witchy woo woo."

The doorbell rang and my fake sister jumped. "He's here! Don't be nervous. Just be your normal, loving self. Gwen- you… you be less you."

Um, okay. I think not.

"Be less myself? I like myself," I mumbled.

Not that Bonnie was paying attention or anything.

With a huff, I grabbed two of the bowls and trudged into the dining room. With any luck, Damon would come and help spice up the dinner that was undoubtedly going to be stiff.

"You're to-go food is served!" I announced a moment later. Elena shot me a glare. Shrugging, I plopped down into my seat next to Bonnie. Stefan was at the head of the table, for whatever reason. I didn't see why Elena and he didn't sit side by side, but that was whatever. Maybe having him near Bonnie was supposed to make them friends.

Feigning enthusiasm, Elena dug into the grub, and the others followed lead. Bonnie seemed to be running on auto-pilot as she mechanically lifted her fork to her mouth and chewed on a schedule. Elena was multi-tasking, picking at her food and throwing pointed looks to the Bennett witch. Stefan was fidgeting in his seat like a misfit, green eyes flickering between the two friends. He almost looked like a lost puppy.

The amusement of watching them wearing off, I began to play with the pasta on my plate, unbothered by the tense atmosphere. Though the silence was beginning to cut into me. Silence around people wasn't the same thing as silence in the forest, which were meant to be quiet. If I was around any people, alone or in a group, they needed to be talking. It was why I hated libraries; they were filled with breathing things that didn't speak and it was unnatural.

"Anyone want to hear a joke?" I asked cheerfully. A groan came from either Elena or Bonnie, or both. "Okay, so, the midget fortune teller that kills his customers is a small medium at large." I grinned at their 'are you serious' looks. "You get it?"

Elena sighed.

"Come on! It's funny—word play! Yeah? Look, Stefan thought it was funny."

As soon as I pointed it out, he dropped his tiny smile and I dejectedly picked at my food. The table dived back into an even moodier silence. Fine. I'd suffer the quiet and they could be uncomfortable in it.

A minute or two passed before Elena made an attempt. "Did Tanner give you a hard time today?"

"Well, he let me on the team, so I must have done something right," Stefan said.

"Bonnie, Gwen, you should have seen Stefan today. Tyler threw a ball right at him, and-" she began to recant the tale with no small dose of amazement, apparently unaware that it had spread through school in seconds.

"Yeah, I heard," Bonnie said curtly, causing Elena to glower at her.

I piped up. "I thought it was pretty cool. They said you whipped around right when it was about to hit you and you threw it back so hard that Tyler nearly fell. It sounds superhuman! Is there something you'd like to tell us, Steffy? Well, I mean, just Elena I guess, since you're dating her. You shouldn't keep any secrets from her; honesty is very important."

_Coming from the person that lies on a daily basis_, I thought with a snicker.

Stefan shifted in his seat and narrowed his eyes at me for a split second. I continued to pretend that I didn't know anything.

"Damon and I used to play a lot of football. I guess it was a natural instinct sort of thing," Stefan answered, and he pulled off the lie quite splendidly.

"Oh, you mean like Bonnie's natural instinct to not like you or trust you?" I questioned conversationally. A thrill ran through me to see Stefan's flash of hurt.

Beneath the table, a foot roughly met my shin, and pain exploded in it. I gave Bonnie a dirty look. I suddenly imagined making the witch scream in pain, which was enough to keep me from retaliating in reality.

The room was plunged back into hush.

Bloody crackers, where was Damon?

"Bonnie, why don't you tell Stefan about your family?" Elena tried.

"Um," Bonnie said, irritation setting in, "divorced. No mom. Live with my dad."

I sniggered. "Not that, _Bon-Bon. _She's referring to your family history of witchcraft."

At this, the veggie vampire's eyes widened. He clearly hadn't known about Emily Bennett… Curious…

"Yeah, it's really cool."

"Cool isn't the word I'd use," Bonnie objected.

"You're misguided," I said flippantly.

Stefan cleared his throat. "It's certainly interesting. I'm not too versed, but I do know that there's a history of Celtic druids that migrated here in the 1800s."

"My family came by way of Salem," she murmured uncomfortably.

"Really? Salem witches?"

Why was he so shocked? Not that he wasn't hiding it well… Maybe Salem witches were, like, mega-powerful.

"Yeah."

"I would say that's pretty cool."

"Really? Why?"

"Salem witches are heroic examples of individualism and nonconformity."

Two things happened at once: I watched Elena get all mushy. Like seriously, she looked as though she'd melt with love for the guy she'd _just_ met. The second was that Bonnie sat taller, proudly. Stefan had arrived on her good side.

Charming as ever, Steffy.

"Yeah," Bonnie agreed. "Yeah, they are."

Disgusting.

The doorbell rang again. I grinned, pushing my chair back with flourish. A confused Elena said, "I wonder who that could be."

Halfway to the door, I whirled around and brightly said, "Oh. Did I forget to tell you? I invited Damon!"

"Hiya Damon!" I greeted when I opened the door, glad to see his hair fashionably wild. Elena and Stefan appeared behind me.

The older vampire held up a pie.

I took it from him, 'accidentally' jerking his hand a bit so that he fell against the invisible barrier that prevented him from coming in. His nasty look told me he knew exactly what I'd done.

I grinned with a small amount of cheek and asked, "What kind of pie is it?"

He licked his lips. "I think it's called… blood red cherry pie."

I laughed, leaning forward so Elena wouldn't hear. "Do you even like cherries or did you get it for the name?"

"I hate cherries," he confessed with a smirk and looked over my head. "Hello, Elena. Stefan."

"Hi, Damon," she said uncertainly.

"May I come in?" he asked, the picture of politeness.

This knocked Elena out her stupour. "Oh, yeah, you can-"

Stefan jumped back into action. "No, no, no. He can't, uh… he can't stay. Can you, _Damon_?"

"I don't see why ever not," I retorted. "He brought us pie! Did you hear the name? It sounds like food to die for."

"We're just… finishing up." Stefan nodded his head at his girlfriend, at me, at Damon. Forcefully.

But Elena didn't catch his message and said, "It's fine. Just come on in."

With a smirk, Damon stepped over the door and looked around. "You have a beautiful home, Elena."

"Thank you."

"Um, I live here, shouldn't I be included?" I interjected.

"Um," Damon imitated, "you're the one who says this isn't your home."

"Touché." I shrugged. "Let's cut the pie! Cut the pie, cut the pie, cut the pie," I chanted. I danced around the small group until Damon grabbed the dessert lightning fast and tripped me.

I glared up at him from my crab position on the floor. That was payback.

"Need I repeat myself?" Damon said, referring to our earlier conversation.

"Damon!" I drew a hand to my chest, looking positively scandalised. "You swore you wouldn't bring it up in front of others! What we do in private is—private!"

"Oh my God, why did I come here?" To the bewildered crowd, he declared, "That was a lie, by the way. She's joking."

Laughing, I hopped onto my feet. "Can we eat the pie now?"

Damon rolled his eyes and strode over to the witch.

"That's Bonnie, by the way! Bonnie Bennett." I was so helpful. I sped over to the table and popped off the cherry dessert container's lid. Pie knife. Knife… Kitchen. Racing in there, I opened the first thing I laid eyes on… Stupid! Why would the pie utensils be in a cabinet? They were in drawers… Where?

Interrupting the conversation Damon was holding with the willing participants of Bonnie and Elena, I barked, "Bonnie! Where-"

"The drawer to the left of the dishwasher!"

Bingo!

Grabbing the pie cutter in the drawer, I glibly fled back to the dining room with the sharp blade sticking in the air like a total idiot. Wait. Plates! I knew where those were. I pivoted and returned with a stack of paper plates in seconds.

Elena frowned at Bonnie. "How did you…?"

Stabbing the pie in its centre and cutting it in half, I conspiratorially whispered, "It's hoo-doo."

"Gwen," Bonnie said warningly.

I returned my statement with a dull one. "Fine, Bonnie's been in this house so many times that she knew what I was going to say before I got any of the words out and she got the drawer right just like the two times before in one day."

Meanwhile, Stefan was trying to burn holes into Damon, who was glibly ignoring his brother.

Ah, family.

"Hey, can we eat on the couch?" I requested. "It'd be comfier."

"Sure, Gwen," an Elena at the end of her rope said.

The way she talked to me would make someone think that she was dealing with a hyperactive child!

Eh, whatever.

When we'd settled on the couches, Elena prompted, "So, Damon, you were talking about how great you think it is that Stefan got on the team."

Boorrring!

"Yeah, it's been a long time since I've seen him really engage. He's been letting life pass him up for decades, it seems."

What was Damon playing at?

I scooped out a piece of pie onto each plate. Damon got an especially large piece. He _had _to eat it! Who didn't eat their own dessert? It was his fault he didn't like cherries. I passed out everyone else's first to make sure he got the biggest part.

"It's hard to make roots when you move around so much," Stefan added rather stiffly.

"Oh, yeah… Military family, wasn't it, Stefan?" I said, though I remembered perfectly well that was his cover.

"Yes."

"You never did say what made you come to Mystic Falls to stay with your uncle," I pressed.

"A death in the family," Stefan gritted out, glumly poking his pie. I didn't quite understand why. He was obviously lying. Did he feel guilty for his tall tales?

"I'm sorry," Elena said immediately, ever the sympathetic.

"Stefan and I have watched almost every single person we've ever cared about die," Damon stated, not sounding sad at all.

He was doing a dreadful job at masking his intentions.

"We don't need to get into that right now, Damon," Stefan said sharply.

Obvious. I swallowed a chunk of pie. Was he meaning to be this obvious?

"Oh, you know what, you're right, Stef. I'm sorry… The last thing I wanted to do was bring _her_ up."

And of course it came back to Katherine. Damon had issues. And he was transparent in his manipulations, but it was working on Elena. She continually peered at her boyfriend beneath her lashes, the curiosity eating at her. Bonnie was sitting there like she didn't want to be here, and I was feeling intensely amused by the two brothers.

"Damon!" Bonnie suddenly squeaked. "Gwen says she met you in the forest."

I gave her a look. Did she think I'd lied?

He tore his gaze away from Elena and Stefan to address the witch. "Yeah. It's got to be the worst thing that's ever happened to me." He grinned. Elena and Bonnie laughed.

The vampire was so mean.

"Ha-ha. The way he just appeared out of nowhere was _supernatural_. Must be a family thing," I said teasingly while Damon sharply turned his head towards me.

"What were you in the woods for?" Stefan asked.

"Killing animals," I deadpanned. "Speaking of which, I've been seeing a sharp spike in the number of dead bunnies and deer. What kind of animal buries its victims? I should report it."

Damon's blue eyes glittered with delight, mixing with the hints of mischief.

Elena, not taking me seriously, rolled her eyes. "She sneaks out all the time."

"Can you blame me? This house is depressing and boring. A girl's got to live!"

"Because going to the forest every night is living."

"Who said that's the only place I go?"

Feeling the need to cut in before Elena got anymore riled, Bonnie said, "Well, thanks for bringing that pie, Damon."

"My pleasure."

10 minutes later, we were cleaning things up and I was itching to get back to my room. I needed to finish putting those papers together. I needed to figure out the story. I was sick and tired of hearing Damon and Elena talk in the kitchen. She was telling Damon _she_ was sorry for Katherine's death, that he'd lost her too. I'd never understood why others apologised for a death they had nothing to do with and it was irritating.

Saying I had to use the restroom, I disappeared into my bedroom.

* * *

**_Weeeelllll? How was it? Let's not forget, every writer loves reviews (and follows and favourites) XP Also, feedback about flashbacks you guys want to see would be appreciated. You all will probably come up with some things I haven't thought of so let me know :) _**

**_Thanks for reading! Until next time *salutes*_**


	7. Not Dead

_**Sorry for the wait guys! We moved and I was like, okay we'll get WiFi soon and I can upload but that didn't happen soo... hehe :D Anyway! It's here now so there.**_

_**Thanks for the follows, favourites, and reviews! Enjoy! :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Not Dead**

_The amusement park was loud and crowded and hot. Boys and girls of every age bustled around me, a perpetual buzz that refused to be quieted. People ran from line to line in the flashing glow of the various rides that lit up against the night sky. They were so excited, jumping for the next rush of adrenaline and the feeling of temporary invincibility._

_ I rolled my eyes, lazily leaning against the railing of the line for the Spinner in disinterest. The newest group of 32 had boarded the rollercoaster type attraction, scattering nervous giggles and murmurs through the already stuffed air. The scraggly worker, having checked the full body seat belts, punched the start button and the ride geared up with a low, long groan._

_ At first the coaster only swayed back and forth in the large, singular loop, creating screams of delight. But as it gained momentum, it flew to the top of the hoop, suspending half of the riders upside-down for a few stretched seconds before falling back at break neck speed. Soon, it was flying around in the circle, looping around for all it was worth._

_ Elena was too scared to go on the Spinner- she was a wimp- so her friends had forgone it as well. Though I knew for a fact that Matt, Caroline, and Tyler wanted to ride. But the blonde had said since Elena was the birthday girl, they had to listen to the 14 year old and her wishes. Matt was in complete agreement, but that was only because he had a huge crush on Elena. Tyler didn't want to be alone with me because of what had happened last time._

_ I mean, it was 7 years later, and the Lockwood still hadn't gotten over the little incident. It wasn't as if he'd almost died. He needed to move on already._

_ But since he hadn't, I was in line all by my lonesome, surrounded by idiots who were getting the jitters. _

_ I hadn't felt the slightest pinch of nervousness, and people were beginning to take notice by pointing at the unnaturally calm girl._

_ A mixed group of 16 year olds looked at me in question. I narrowed my eyes at them, happy to scare the older guys away. It was a lot more fun to make them crumble than it was to watch people go jelly-legged at a stupid attraction._

_ But before I could accomplish the mediocre goal that was nearly satisfying, Grayson interrupted. "Gwyneth."_

_ I straightened, pasting on a smile while my insides curdled with hate. "Yeah?"_

_ As if I was going to let the words 'yes sir' pass through my lips. He didn't deserve any respect, and I had none to give._

_ "Time to go," he ordered. "Elena's exhausted."_

_ Oh, boo-hoo._

_ "What, do you expect me to get out of the line I've been in for an _hour_ when I'm about to go on the ride?" I asked shrewdly. "Elena can sit down and wait until I've gone."_

_ His hard eyes flashed dangerously. "We're leaving now."_

_ Observing him in what was now a mix of amusement and irritation, I felt the increasing urge to laugh at him. I wasn't going anywhere with the old man until I rode the bloody Spinner. I hadn't wasted 60 minutes standing around only to abandon ship just as I was at the front. "What's five minutes, Grayson?" _

_ He bristled. "Gwyneth, you call me Mr. Gilbert."_

_ "How about pops?" I mused. "Not that you're a good adoptive father…"_

_ Grayson leaned down, baring his teeth. "No one would want to be a good parent to a child like you," he hissed. _

_ I recoiled as if I'd been slapped, eyes narrowing into slits in fury. They'd always said I had a terrible temper; it was an unblinking truth. I also had quite a vengeful streak and had been deemed disturbing when I didn't keep myself in check._

_ Well, I was keeping myself in check now when I wanted nothing more than to flay him until he was begging me to stop._

_ It was all about patience._

_ Whatever I schemed up, Grayson would be completely and utterly blindsided._

_ Maybe Jeremy would find his favourite toys broken… But, no. That was too obvious. It had to be just enough and not too much. The worst kind of torture was when you didn't quite know it was happening. It was the cold suspicion, the paranoia, the looking over your shoulder but nothing being there. Maybe Elena would wake up fighting for air only to find that her covers strangling her._

_ But whatever I did, it had to be subtle._

_ I didn't want to get caught. _

_ "You're right, Grayson," I amicably agreed, moving forward with the line as the next group boarded the rollercoaster. "Well, I'll meet you guys at the little front plaza."_

_ Giving him a salute, I climbed into the second to front row of seats, sizzling with anger. Fire felt as if it were racing through my veins. I wanted to destroy everything in sight if only to express this unspeakable rage. Who did Grayson Gilbert think he was? I could do what I wanted. I'd keep them waiting for _ages _if I wanted. Lucky for them, it would mean waiting on my revenge plan, and I wasn't _that_ patient._

_ Slamming the full body seat belt over my head and buckling it in (it was like I was in a cage), I tapped my fingers against the arm bar, willing the ride worker to hurry it up._

_ Two girls and a boy I recognized from the group of high schoolers filed into the 3 empty seats in my section. A curly haired strawberry blonde sat next to the guy with the football build and gripped his hand, leaving her mousy haired friend to sit next me. She wrinkled her sloped nose before gingerly sitting down._

_ Yeah, who would want to sit next to the weird girl with purple eyes and streaked hair that looked like snow?_

_ "Nervous?" she asked me, smiling what she thought was a friendly smile. Her voice was like chalk on a board, at least to me. I was so not in the mood to talk to anyone._

_ Envisioning her painful death was what brought a charming grin to my lips. "Not at all," I responded, staring her straight in the eye until she began to squirm, the tiniest bit of unease seeping in. She quickly looked away and to the two across from us._

_ 'Wack-o!' her friend mouthed, and they both stifled a giggle._

_ Pretending not to have seen, I tilted my head to the murky sky and resumed drumming my fingers. Maybe I'd steal those teenagers' money before I left, as payback. It was the least I could do since psychically hurting them was out of the picture. Too many witnesses._

_ A familiar hot coil emerged in my guy, waiting to be expelled. As I was quite emotional- okay it was most definitely hate- I didn't care. I wanted something, anything to happen. Something bad. Something painful. Something that hurt._

_ And in a way, whatever happened would be Grayson's fault, if you thought about it. If the jerk hadn't upset me, I wouldn't be feeling this way. Emotions were weird for me but annoyance and anger were close friends. Morbid things tended to happen when I was mad, so really I wasn't to blame. People just had to go and agitate me._

_ The Spinner started up with the same groan, but this time it was accompanied by an ominous creak. No one else noticed because they were having so much fun. The girl next to me squeaked at the gentle sway of the first swing. When the coaster fell to the opposite side of the track, her shoulder length 'v' cut hair flew forward while the girl pushed against her seat, holding her breath._

_ Her eyes were screwed shut and she was holding the arm bars so tightly that her knuckles were white. Great. She was probably a screamer. Tons of them were, but I was extra irritated today. When we were suspended upside-down, I'd whack her in the face with my arm. She wouldn't know I'd done it on purpose. What kind of person did that on purpose? That would be so _mean!

_ Oh well. At least she wasn't a hysterical spaz. I sat next to one of those on the Drop ride. With seven seats per side, I'd been the odd one out and had to sit on the next side beside a bulking middle aged man who was praying something fierce the entire 100 feet trip to the top. He'd hollered the entire plummet, too. Talkers weren't so bad; they required a nod here and there and you could learn their secrets._

_ The girl beside me screamed when the ride gave a sudden, desperate creak that had nothing to do with what was supposed to happen. The strawberry blonde friend screeched._

_ I closed my eyes. The ride shuddered and lurched. The tugging in my pit intensified, growing into a euphoric sensation, so heady I felt as if I was floating. The rollercoaster shot like a bullet around the loop. I was powerful, unstoppable. A tremour shook the amusement attraction. The tracks seemed to shriek under a new pressure. The shouts of delight morphed into thundering whimpers of terror. A collective gasp and cries of shock and warning reverberated from the growing crowd of on-lookers._

_ I grinned, opening my eyes. They'd wanted excitement, hadn't they? The adrenaline junkies? This was what real excitement was!_

_ A jolt, a loud grating noise, and suddenly the coaster was derailing. We were suspended in the air and below, people were running in terror._

_ The crash was deafening. I remembered a warm trickle of blood dripping onto my hands from my head. The pain in my abdomen. The flashing red and blue lights from the police. The lifeless eyes of the three that had made fun of me staring pointlessly ahead. They'd looked like broken porcelain dolls, posed in their seats by a child. _

_ They said the first thing I did when I woke up in the hospital was laugh._

* * *

I realized early on that I didn't have enough space in my room to sort my drawings. Most of the pictures fit into the story, but a good amount didn't. It was a challenge to figure out which ones belonged and which ones didn't. Then, I had to figure out the order the ones in the story went. The whole thing was a bloody challenge that I'd devoted the better part of the night to and I wasn't giving up any time soon.

But I needed more room…

I grappled for my stolen phone on the desk, fingers closing around it. I dialled Damon's number and waited, ever so hopeful that he would pick up faster this time around. Somewhat patient, I picked up the paper on top of my 'unknown' pile, one that was still huge.

I frowned at it. Why would I draw an open panel on the back of what looked like a bookshelf? When had I drawn it? A small, leather-bound journal resided inside the little cubby-hole. Hmm… Why did it look familiar?

The ringing in my ear clicked to a stop. "Stefan?" a groggy Damon greeted.

"No, Damon. It's Gwen."

"Gwen? …Why are you with my brother?"

Damon was one of _those _sleepers. The ones that woke up in a daze.

My lips twitched in amusement.

… "I stole his phone, remember?"

"Oh. Hi." He yawned loudly.

My eyes widened in a split second of surprise that was gone in the blink of an eye. "What? No barbs? Just a friendly greeting?"

A second yawn. "I'm tired. Give me a break."

"That makes no sense. You shouldn't need sleep," I absently commented, throwing the drawing of the hidden panel into the 'not useful' pile. Something about it didn't belong. It was too familiar.

"If you called to criticise…"

"Um, no. That's a waste of time. I called to ask if I could come over."

"You? Asking? What have you done with the real Gwen?"

I snorted. "I need to make sure you won't have a temper tantrum when I show up. People are sleeping!"

"You're one to talk," he muttered underneath his breath. "Are you going to make a habit of coming around in the wee hours of morning?"

_Yes._

"No." I rubbed the back of my neck. "What time is it?"

Damon paused. "3:13. Don't you have a clock or check your phone?"

"Of course I do. I just have a habit of not checking and forgetting. It's kind of a problem for me—So can I come over?"

"Why do you want to come over?" He sounded more awake.

"I'm working on something. You have more space."

"Oh, so you're using me."

I grinned. "Basically, yeah."

A crackly exhale. "Sure, why not?"

"Thanks, Damon! And unlock the front door for me, will you?" I requested happily before hanging up.

Discarding the phone, I placed my not yet sorted drawings into a pocket of my Marauders' Map messenger bag and put the ones for the story in another. Throwing the bag over my shoulder, I crept downstairs. I was beginning to think not being able to crawl out of my window because I'd punched a tree had been a faulty idea.

As I passed the living room, I noticed the bookshelf against the wall. It looked like my drawing, down to the books and the candle décor. I changed tracks and wandered closer to it, a nagging feeling consuming me. It was the same... A false panel…

Just as I was about to test my theory, the stairs creaked beneath the weight of one of the house members. I ducked behind the love seat and rested against the wall, trying to think about a reason I would have to draw the bookshelf. It had to be something I'd remembered unconsciously. Something important, otherwise there was no use wasting a memory over it.

A cabinet quietly opened in the kitchen. A second later, the sound of water filling a cup broke the night time silence. Peeping over the top of the cushioned seat gave me a view of a fevered looking Elena. With the way she shook her head, you'd think she was having an argument with herself. Over a dream, perhaps?

Well duh. Of course it was over a dream. She showed all the signs of having woken up mere moments ago.

Elena paced the kitchen, much to my aggravation. Would she leave already? She got water. She could bring it back to her room, where she was free to do whatever she pleased. Some of us- namely me- needed privacy. I had a book to steal and places to go. I had things to do, and here she was fretting over some _dream_. I so outweighed her on the importance scale.

I bet her dream wasn't that bad, either. She'd consider a nightmare disappointing dear old mummy and daddy. Or having Stefan break up with her. Or having to re-experience her parents' death, which was basically her fault, so she got to be dowsed in another round of guilt.

I swallowed down a presumptuous sniff. Poor Elena, weighed down by her feelings. I'd never felt guilt or remorse before, but it made people depressed and, well, guilty looking. And then the sensation usually led to two outcomes: either they got snappy and defensive when whatever they were feeling guilty for was brought up, or they were morosely accepting- like Elena.

For a couple of months after Miranda and Grayson's deaths, she'd taken everything I'd thrown her way- _boooooring_. The whole point was to subtly provoke and get a reaction; that was entertainment. She wasn't supposed to start balling for no reason and nod her head along. When she did that, I was forced to comfort her when I rather wanted to laugh at her for being a baby. People with their stupid emotions…

Silently drumming my fingers in impatience, I suddenly wished I'd gone with the choice to get out of the house while I still could. The hidden cubby-hole could've waited. I didn't even know if the thing was still there. I was sacrificing precious minutes where I could be not wasting time for the stupid and most likely piece of junk.

The time was crawling by at the pace of a snail and fake sister of mine finally scurried up the stairs. Puffing my cheeks out, I jumped up. Wasting nothing, I inspected the whole shelf, trying the first trick in the book. I pushed the back panel in, gleeful when it popped back and opened.

It was my luck that the blue bound journal was still there. Smirking, I gladly took it out and placed it in my bag. I'd flip it open at Damon's, maybe. Definitely after I finished my little project. It probably hadn't been worth my waiting around to snatch it, especially since the defences against it weren't great. And no one had known about the journal since it'd still been there…

When I got to the Boarding House, the door was opening before I could raise my hand to knock like a polite person. I totally hadn't wanted to knock because it would possibly wake Zach or Stefan. Or annoy Damon.

But the vampire had some kind of mind reading stuff going on because he scolded me before he'd even opened the door by saying, "Don't even think about it."

I hastily put my hand against my bag, peering innocently at him. "Think about what?"

He'd graciously put a shirt on in preparation for my coming over. Damon lazily leaned against the doorframe, blue eyes flicking over my head. "Did you walk here?"

"Yeah. I would've gotten here faster but darling fake sister wouldn't leave the bloody kitchen. That reminds me, can vampires get into your dreams?"

Damon winked, leaving me with the idea that they definitely could and that he had everything to do with Elena's sudden problem with sleeping.

"Do you even own a car? Or license?" he questioned.

"No, but that's what public transportation is for," I replied unconcernedly.

"Why not? I thought driving is like a rite of passage these days."

The left corner of my lips twitched up. "You're such an old man… No, I've driven a couple of times before. Only once was technically legal. The Driver's Ed. teacher said that 'I drive with reckless abandon like I'm racing to meet death' and decided that I wouldn't have a license in the future," I told him, very indifferent to the whole matter. I grinned fondly, remembering as the middle aged man had jumped out of the car and bowed on the ground.

Good times…

He eyed me. "I can see it."

My grin turned devilish. "Don't worry, I don't have road rage. It's just that I run red lights, slam on the breaks, weave in and out of lanes, and drive as fast as I can push the gas."

"I can definitely see it," he decided.

"But don't worry, I haven't caused any accidents! Driving crazy is fun! I can show you if you like. I'm just _dying _to take your Camaro out for a spin."

Damon attempted to pin me with one of those dead stares that made _normal_ peoples' skin crawl. "No," he said flatly. "Get in here."

Smiling, I ducked under his arm. The door shut with a quiet click as I marched straight to the living room.

Hands on hips, I observed the area. "Help me move the couches," I demanded.

"I'm sorry, what? It sounded like you were commanding me to rearrange my own furniture and that can't be right," Damon replied in disbelief.

I cast him a concerned look. "No, that's what I said. Is your vampire hearing malfunctioning? Can that happen?"

The vampire rolled his eyes. "I'm not moving jack squat," he said flatly.

Shrugging my bag onto the floor and slipping off my sneakers, I ran behind Damon and latched onto his back. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?" I begged, obnoxiously hugging him. "It's only temporary!"

"No." He struggled to unwind my hands from their death lock around his neck.

"I swear I'm not using you!" A lie. "I'll still hang with you afterwards!" A truth.

Until he became dreary.

"No way."

I sniffled. "You hate me!" I wailed.

"Shh! Are you trying to wake the dead?"

… "If I am, will you help me?"

Damon groaned. That's right, there was no winning against me. "Oh I'm so glad you agree because I actually can't move heavy things. Sutures, see? Speaking of, they really hurt."

Pouting, I dropped off his back and sat on the floor, cradling my hands. Damon stooped to my level, drawing my arms out to take a look. When he saw the dirt on them, he frowned. "Aren't you supposed to change these out?"

Oh yeah, I was. The roll of gauze was in my room. "Duh, I don't want to get an infection." I smirked in amusement. That was ironic. Did Damon get it?

"You haven't done it. I can smell the old," he stated. As if to prove it, he made a show of sniffing the air. "Zach has some gauze."

"You know, for a vampire who claims not to care, you care a whole lot."

It was almost disappointing.

Damon scoffed. "I don't care. I'm doing this for my own benefit."

"Yeah, the benefit of making sure I'm okay," I retorted, grinning smugly.

"Fine. Someone has to care about your wellbeing because you clearly don't care. I'm not a_ monster_," he jokingly said.

I didn't deny that I had a disregard for my life. "Don't let Stefan hear you saying that," I whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. "It'll confuse the poor guy."

Damon disappeared and appeared in a flash. The Flash from the Marvel universe would've been impressed with vampire speed… He stuck the gauze out to me.

"By the way, I'm actually doing this so that you don't mope and whine about it," he corrected, running a hand through his messy black hair.

"Sure you are."

Damey gave me a dirty look before turning to observe his parlour. "What's this thing you're working on that needs so much space?"

"It's in my bag, if you want to look. But don't go mixing the piles together or else I won't only imagine ripping your tongue out." I pointed to the Harry Potter messenger bag with a half undone gauze covered hand.

…

"Look, Damey! I'm a mummy!" I snickered.

It seemed the vampire wasn't giving me the time of day anymore. Jutting my lower lip out, I continued to switch out the worn bandages.

"Your project is a bunch of _drawings_?" he said incredulously.

"Yes_,_ and it's not as stupid as you think. I've been drawing my nightmares for years and years and I've had an epiphany-"

"Epiphany. Who uses the word _epiphany_?"

"Yes, Damon. An epiphany." I forged on a bit louder. "A good deal of the art is forming a story. You know, like pictures in a comic book."

"A story about what?" Ah, ever the sceptic.

I shrugged. "Maybe it's my past. Have I mentioned that I don't have any memories of my life before I lived with the Gilberts? That's 5 years missing."

Damon fingered through one of the stacks. At one, his face screwed up and he held the paper up for me to see. Whaa?- Oh. Now I understood his expression.

It was a photo of a dark room filled with what looked like experiments, like a stage out of a horror film. There was actually one of those giant bubbling containers with something inside it and a bunch of tubes pumping something out of the mass. The whole drawing was smudged and fragmented, like a blurry image.

If they were memories, maybe it meant that I couldn't remember things properly.

"Oh, put that aside for me, will you? That looks like part of the story," I said, standing with newly wrapped hands.

"You think this creep show could be your past?" Damon inquired, obediently putting the picture away from the ones he was holding.

"It's the only thing that can explain why I keep dreaming of the same things." It was obvious, now that I thought about it. Dreams could be memories, couldn't they? And you only dreamt of people you'd seen in the course of your life, even if it was in passing. Seeing the same people repeatedly _had_ to mean something.

"It's just a little terrifying." Damon gave a little start. "Maybe that's why you're messed up."

Then he smirked.

Jerk.

With a roll of my eyes, I carelessly flopped onto the floor beside him. "I'm not messed up," I objected. As I pulled out the papers that needed sorting I added, "It's everyone else."  
"See? That proves it. Normal people don't go around breaking fingers and shoving people off roofs and creating problems for the fun of it."

_Useless, useless, useless. _

Most of the drawings I had left were fantasies. "You're creating problems for the fun of it," I pointed out. "Bringing up Katherine last night? Don't tell me that was for no reason. And you kill people. I haven't killed anyone." Unless cute forest critters counted. "Are we sure we're talking about me here and not you?"

Damon shot me a look. "I'm a vampire. It's like a freebee pass to murder."

"Oh please. Tell that to the people who care about whoever you've killed. Actually, tell that to anyone and they'll be appalled because they care in the first place. They don't even have to know the victim. It's weird."

"That's another thing! You don't _care_ one way or the other if I'm a killer."

"Well, you're a lot more interesting and exciting, so I do sort of care."

"That's not the sort of care I meant and you know it."

I beamed brazenly at the vampire. "—Hey! Has Steffy killed anyone or has he always been on the broody animal diet?"

"I feel like if I tell you, you'll use it against him," he said.

_Most definitely._

"Of course not! Shame on you for accusing me of something like that!"

"I know you're lying, but you don't give anything away. Your heart beat doesn't change and you have the best poker face I've ever seen."

I was sensing something akin to awe.

And suspicion.

Whatever.

"I know right? I've been working on it for years. I've got every emotion and reaction down pact."

Damon snapped his fingers in comprehension. "I know what you have."

"You know what I don't have? Help." I shoved the papers that made the story into his empty hands. "Here, spread these out over there. Moving the couches would make things easier."

Not liking to be given orders, the eldest Salvatore brother scowled at me. "You're a psychopath!" he announced.

I'll admit, I didn't see that one coming.

I hummed. "Sociopath, actually."

That knocked Damon off his high horse of 'wisdom'. "What?"

"It's hard to tell, but I'm pretty sure I lean more towards sociopathy," I said, as if we were conversing about the weather. "I can form emotional bonds. There's not a lot of research on it so the definitions of them are hazy. Like, I'm pretty good at blending when I want to, which doesn't fit in with the definition of sociopath. I guess you can say they're interchangeable terms if you want… Sociopath sounds better if that's the case."

"Blending in? I figured out pretty quick that there's something wrong with you."

I tapped my finger sharply against my leg. "There's nothing _wrong _with me, Damon. I'm just different." _Better._ I wasn't weighed down by 'good' and 'bad'. I did what I wanted and if it ever came down to it, I'd be best at getting the job done. No guilt meant no issues performing. "Besides, I'm not trying around you. It's a waste of time."

Damon leaned back on his heels. "I'm not sure whether I should be insulted or not."

I eyed him in amusement. This was why he was fun to be around. He took things in stride and rolled with it. I could say I'd been time travelling and he'd go with it.

"I'd say it's a compliment. You get to see the 'real' me and I get a break." I rolled onto my back and splayed my arms out with a complaining groan. "Faking emotions is hard. I mean, the faking part is a breeze but it's so time consuming. No wonder I've been slipping up lately. I get bored, you know, but it's beyond easy to draw people back in…"

Damon seemed to disagree. "I bet it's harder than you're making it sound. I've seen the look you get sometimes. There are emotions you can't pin."

Well why was he paying attention?

"True," I admitted, listlessly flicking my eyes over the high ceiling to him. "At first I didn't get why you look at Elena the way you do, but then with Katherine and everything… You're like a lovesick puppy that's been kicked and is going back for more abuse because it doesn't know any better."

"You really know how to p- someone off," he said. I could hear the scowl in his voice.

"You haven't attempted to actually kill me so I must not be trying hard enough. I'm just saying, Katherine's something else— Would you quit with the bad language?"

"Gwen, you're not supposed to care," he said sourly.

"Hey, I have certain ideals that I stick to." I nodded at him, very serious like. Then I giggled. "Cursing is a no-no."

"Child," Damon muttered, but he was smiling again. Gee, he was bipolar.

I lifted a shoulder and dropped it in acknowledgement.

"Wait a second," he said slowly, thinking. "You said you could form emotional bonds. The only way you'd know that is from experience. Who was it?"

My fingers drummed on the flat plain of my stomach. "That friend that Miranda and Grayson took from me," I answered emotionlessly, mind already jumping to something more interesting. Like who Katherine was running from. People who faked their death had to have a good reason.

But the day he'd disappeared had been one of the weirdest days to date in my life. I'd gotten this weird ache in my chest and every time I thought of him, the memories were tinged in—jeez, what was it? Sadness. When I'd asked John about it a couple months later, I'd learned that that's what missing someone felt like. In a completely platonic way, that is.

Rolling back onto my stomach to keep working, I airily added, "I got over it quick though so I must not have cared about him much."

Yeah, I'd stopped feeling anything about his missing presence in my life the day after. Destroying the vervain had simply been out of revenge, pure and simple.

Damon waggled his eyebrows in an exaggeratedly suggestive way.

"9," I reminded. "I was 9. Besides, he's way older than me. He was, like, in his late 20s or early 30s when we met."

"Yeah, yeah. Who was he?"

"His name's Enzo," I said, intently staring at the drawings I was holding, completely missing Damon's look of shocked horror. "Or was. Whichever. I don't know if he's still alive."

I couldn't get him out of his cell. Not that it was of any importance at present.

"Now, would you spread these papers out for me? And put them in the order they're in the stack."

In the aftermath of silence, Damon took them, void of complaints. Strange.

It was around 5 when my victorious whoop drew the presence of Damon's relatives. I doubled over with shaking laughter when Stefan tripped over a bleary eyed fake uncle Zach in his haste to see what had caused the noise.

"What's going on?" Stefan asked sharply. Gee, maybe it was seeing his brother, but his broodiness never seemed to dial back.

"Hi, Stefan!" I greeted.

"No, you're too cheerful," Damon scolded.

"Hello, Stefan," I tried.

He shook his head. "Too proper."

"Hey?"

"Better."

I pivoted to Stefan, whose mouth hung open. "Hey." Back to Damon. "That was good, right? I think I nailed it. Smooth, cool, to the point."

Zach had pulled himself onto his feet and stared dumbly at us. It wasn't that weird that we were in the middle of tons of drawings.

"What are you doing?" Steffy repeated.

"Well, Damon thinks that my 'hellos' and 'goodbyes' are much too bright and they need work. But I think they're fine so I'm going to go right back to my sunny welcomes and farewells once you leave," I explained.

Damon scrutinised me.

"What are you doing here, Gwen?" Zach cut in.

I blinked. "Using your space to the best of my advantage."

Obviously.

He ran a drowsy hand through his curly hair. "At 5:12? Did Damon do something to you?"

"Zach, you don't trust me?" the Salvatore questioned, amused.

He gave his distant nephew a hesitant glare, as if scared that it might get him killed.

Eh. I would kill him. He had some kind of self-righteous-judgy vibe going on. It was kind of annoying.

"Do something like what?" I paused. "Oh, you mean like ripping my throat out and sucking my blood? Or compelling me? No, I don't think so, but then again I wouldn't remember would I? That is soooo weird! Pretty nifty, too. You can get away with, like, anything!"

Stefan turned disbelieving eyes onto his elder brother. "You told her? How long has she known?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Damon retorted, crossing his arms defensively. They sounded like good old bickering brothers.

"She could tell anyone!" Zach chipped in.

"Don't worry, I don't plan to. The Town Council kind of sucks, I hate them, and they've failed to notice that your 'nephews' are vampires. I'm not telling Elena either because that's going to be hilarious when it blows up in Stefan's face, since she's inevitably going to find out," I said dreamily, thoughts on what it would be like to be a vampire. "And you're not going to tell anyone about me knowing because Damon here would kill you."

Hmmm… I'd be like the monster beneath the bed if I were a vampire. I'd be compelling people left and right to do terrible things. I'd kill for the pleasure of it, or just because I could. Yeah, maybe I shouldn't be a vampire. I'd rain terror down on everyone in my path.

Yeah, it was probably best I stay the way I was. Besides, I might be something better than a vampire. Like… I don't know, some super powerful creature.

That'd be cool.

"You told her," Stefan echoed, disapproval coating his bleak tone.

"Technically, she figured it out," Damon disagreed.

"The one useful thing Miranda and Grayson passed on to me was their fantastical vampire stories. I'm surprised Elena and Jeremy don't remember. Not that I'd expect them to…" I remarked, glancing around me, glad that I'd already photographed the work. "They—they thought… stories… rubbish…"

A sudden yawn escaped me and a blanket of lethargy covered me. I required sleep.

Surprise painted Damon. "Did you just yawn?"

"I do get tired you know."

"No, you're supposed to be an inhuman machine that's always bouncing around with energy."

"And you're supposed to be a _vampire_ that doesn't need to sleep."

"We live for eternity! It whittles away the time!"

In my peripheral vision, Zach shook his head, dumbfounded. Deciding that Stefan could handle his big brother, Zach turned and trotted back down the darkly lit hall to his room. I waved a hand after him. "Byeeeeeee fake uncle!" I called, disrupting our bickering.

"You're too bubbly. It's annoying," Damon ground out.

I mock whispered, "That's the point, vamp."

Stefan edged closer to us the way one approached a cornered wild animal: slowly and steadily. "Gwen, has he hurt you in any way?"

Um. Didn't he see how swell we were getting along? You didn't get that from harming and maiming. At least in most circumstances. Damon would gladly point out that I'd broken his fingers without batting an eye and pushed him off a roof. I was just too persistent and awesome for him to hate me.

"No. Except for when he tripped me during my pie dance…" I shot Damon a quick warning look to keep his trap shut about what _I'd_ done. And even though I knew this was out of the equation, to add some spice, I added, "But he could've done that compulsion thing, so how should I know?"

Damon's blue orbs went skyward at Stefan's judgmental glare and said, "Relax, brother. She's breathing."

I nodded enthusiastically, making a show of inhaling and exhaling in affirmation. I glanced around at my drawings with heavy eyes. Damon was right… They were creepy… Something about the red haired woman nearly gave me the chills…

Minutes or hours later, in the haze of half sleep, I heard Damon snap, "I haven't touched her!"

I wanted to chip in my two cents, that he was technically touching me since I'd fallen asleep with my head against his leg, but my mouth seemed glued shut. There was a shuffling noise, but my eyes refused to open. Stefan's reply was drowned out as I slipped back into the nightmarish terrain of unconsciousness...

I woke up screaming.

* * *

_Damon if you didn't want to be woken up with my screams, you shouldn't have let me sleep._

The vampire had been nonstop whining at me over text for the past hour since I'd left his humble abode. Like, what was I supposed to do? He shouldn't have let me sleep! It wasn't my fault I'd disrupted the Salvatore house. I couldn't control whether I screamed or not.

Stefan's phone buzzed in my hand and I quickly opened Damon's text. _I didn't know you were going to screech like banshee after an hour!_

Okay, maybe it would've been nice of me to mention that little detail, but I wasn't considerate. I'd been tired. I glared at a crack in the road's pavement. We'd worked for hours on my drawings. And thank the powers that be that I'd taken pictures of them because when I'd woken, someone (my money was on Stefan) had cleaned them up into a stack. Who touches another person's mess?

_A lesson learned, then. Heeeyyy you want to come to the football game? You can cheer Steffy on! I'm sure your dear brother will love seeing you in the crowd._

Hahah he'd hate it!

I tripped over the uneven surface of the sidewalk, and the journal I'd found earlier jostled in my hoodie pocket. The black book was so small and lightweight that I'd forgotten it was there. I needed to look in it and snoop. Hopefully it'd be a more interesting read than Elena's diary. She only had the standard secrets of any growing child, like stealing a sip of alcohol. Nothing good.

_Why would I ever want to go to a stupid high school game?_

I screwed my face up at the phone screen. What had he said to me early this morning? _You said, 'we live for eternity. It wastes time,' about sleeping, so the same thing applies here. That's why. Plus you'll get to hang out with me!_

That should be enough reason to do anything. He gets the pleasure of my wonderful company.

_I just spent a considerable amount of time with you. … do you miss me?_

I scoffed. _No of course I don't. And that was hours ago! It's a moment thing, vamp. In this moment, you're not here amusing me and you should be._

The stream of excited chatter steadily grew louder as I neared the high school. Students were walking toward the stadium even though the game wasn't going to start for hours. And I was one of those losers. Mystic Falls was a small town, and I had nothing better to do. The plan was to sit into the very top corner of the bleachers and read the journal.

_Has it ever occurred to you that I might have better things to do?_

… Better than spending time with me? What could possibly better?

Okay, a lot of things.

_Neeeevvvveerr! Like what? You can further your 'nefarious' plans against your brother here! And Katherine's waited 145, so she can wait a bit longer._

I spotted Elena a few paces away and sped up to meet her. With a raised eyebrow, I noted her lack of a cheerleading uniform. This was a new development. Considering she hadn't noticed me, I snuck up behind her and screamed, "Elena!" in her ear.

The girl whirled around, hand placed over her mouth to stifle a yelp. Seeing my laughing face, she scowled and swatted my arm. "Don't do _that_!" she yelled crossly.

Grinning, I skipped a circle around her as she resumed walking. "Why'd you quit cheerleading, Lena?" I airily questioned.

Elena shrugged. "It's not fun. It hasn't felt the same since mom and dad died."

Yeah, yeah, cry me a river.

"Damon's the one that convinced me."

"Oh? During the dinner party he crashed?" He certainly hadn't told me.

My fake sibling hummed her confirmation, attention straying to her vampire boyfriend with his football gear on. She glanced at me, then back at Stefan, obviously wanting to leave.

I sighed dramatically, batting a bandaged hand at her. "Oh, don't mind me! I'll watch you two from afar, like a stalker. Alllll by myself."

The doppelgänger shook her head and left me standing there. I casually walked in the couple's direction, ready to cut into their conversation at any time I pleased. The phone in my palm buzzed, and I dropped my gaze to it.

_Maybe later. _

I was picking up on sourness from Damon. Must've been the Katherine comment.

Oh well.

_You made Elena quit cheerleading! Now she and Stefan won't be one of those power couples or whatever they're called! _I texted, hoping to convey my absolute shock.

Purple eyes flickering to the new boyfriend and girlfriend, I wrinkled my nose. They were too lovey-dovey. They were soooo _that_ couple. The couple that was in the intense 'in-love' stage that seemed permanent and made it seem like they were in their own little world. The unsaid words 'I love you' practically rolled into the air around them and would make anyone want to avoid them. Anyone sane, that is.

_That's terrible. I'm so sad._

I chuckled lightly at the text. With nothing better to say, I made the move to interrupt Stefan and Elena's chat. He'd just pulled something out of his back pocket and said, "I hope you don't think this is too soon or too weird, but… I, uh, wanted you to have this."

Oh great. It was an antique silver necklace. And it smelt highly distasteful and vaguely familiar. Like the vervain that kept away vampire compulsion.

If I were a vampire, I'd compel everyone not to take vervain in any form. Maybe compel myself an entire town as a safe haven… That wasn't a half bad idea… I'd suggest it to Damon…

Elena, of course, thought it was a beautiful piece of jewellery.

"I kind of think it's weird. You've only known each other for a couple of weeks and he wants you to wear a necklace for him for good luck? That's either possessive or creepy killer. And it smells like some gross herb," I chimed, flipping the phone around in my hand.

The brunette shot me the 'cut it out' look before giving Stefan a pretty smile. "I love it," she said.

Stefan, however, was giving me a guarded look-over, to which I responded with a wink. Despite saying that I wouldn't be telling Elena his dirty little secret, he didn't seem to believe it. I guess I couldn't blame the guy. I wasn't the most reliable girl around.

But seriously- scout's honour on this one!

He abruptly squinted. "Is that my phone?"

I stopped mid-roll, glancing at him and the mobile I'd taken from his bag. I held it up for our inspection. "Umm…. No?" I answered, feigning befuddlement. "Why would I have your phone?"

The vampire shook his head, dismissing a thought. "I lost it the other day… I don't... Sorry—are you sure?"

A dead expression answered him. What kind of person would flaunt a stolen phone in front of the victim?

…

Ooohh I needed to check out his contacts list. What sort of people had Stefan Salvatore met over the years? Anyone interesting?

"Sorry," he mumbled again. Good. He was ashamed of himself.

Even though he was totally correct in accusing me of taking his mobile.

I inwardly cackled.

And then Elena and Stefan were back to making googly-eyes at one another. _Disgusting._ "Well, this has been fun. Stelena-" the two scrunched up their faces and I grinned "- your couple name! It just popped into my head! It sounds good—anyway, _Stelena _I bid you good day. You're mushiness is just…" I shuddered. "Watching you makes me want to gouge out my eyes."

I slunk away from them and to the stands, dodging a couple of people who'd decided to be friendly. I drifted into the top bleachers and brought my legs to my chest when I sat down, shaking out the mystery journal. The book made a crackling noise from being opened for the first time in ages and my eyes landed on the scrawl of cursive in the bottom right corner of the manila page. _'Property of Miranda Gilbert'._

A slow smirk formed on my lips. This would've been more useful months back when Miranda was alive. Especially if there was potential blackmail inked in. That would be a waste…

With renewed interest, I turned the page.

… And kept turning. The entries were deadly boring, nothing worthwhile. The time between her writing deviated, and sometimes it was months before she returned. Most of them were short paragraphs about the Council, vampires, an anniversary in her and Grayson's marriage, and tons of despair about her failure to conceive a child.

I was on the verge of giving up when the date of a comparatively large entry captured my intrigue. June 22, 1992. Elena's birthday. Yet, Miranda hadn't talked of being pregnant or even hinted it. Reading carefully and fast, my eyes widened in understanding and a building sense of victory. My half-conscious suspicions had been so close.

The things I could've done with this precious information had I had the journal before! Elena, adopted! And Grayson's own brother the father! The best thing had to be that Miranda had vowed to tell the 'daughter she was already in love with' but never had.

Elena had no clue that Miranda and Grayson weren't her parents… I swallowed back a giggle. No one in the Gilbert family liked John. Good old _uncle _John…

This explained everything!

Such a secret… Did Jenna know? I wouldn't bring it up. Not until the opportunity presented itself. It wouldn't do me any good to tell Elena. In all likelihood, she wouldn't believe me. It'd be a hold over John, too. With any luck, I could convince him to give me information or money or something and in return I'd keep my mouth shut. He clearly didn't want Elena to know, or else he would've confessed by now.

And this woman- I skimmed the page for her name. _Isobel._ Where had she gone? Who was Elena's birth mother?

No wonder Miranda had kept this journal stowed away.

I leafed through the rest of the journal. It was three quarters in when I finally entered the picture. Miranda had been the one to find me, soundlessly walking on the side of the road with dried blood on my clothes and matted in my hair, smelling like smoke.

Huh. They'd never told me how they found me. Reading the account was almost anticlimactic. I'd imagined it to be much more exciting when I was younger.

It came as a fleeting jolt of surprise to find out that Miranda and Grayson had once liked me. During those first few weeks, according to Miranda, they'd been very caring for me, even though I wouldn't talk. They thought I was in shock.

The first time I spoke, though, was when they got worried. I'd acted like everything was normal, which it could've been since I didn't remember anything. Like whatever had led to me being on the back road covered in blood not my own had never occurred. I faintly remembered Grayson asking me in the kindest tone he'd ever used toward me about it. I'd shrugged and said, "I don't know, but it must've been bad, right? Do you think anyone died?"

It was the first and last time they asked me about it.

As far as I could tell from Miranda's writing, they'd begun hating me when my nightmares started. She shifted from addressing me as 'Gwen' to 'Gwyneth', slipping in crude remarks here and there.

The woman had catalogued everything that happened! _'She seems okay… Elena and Jeremy like her… She hasn't been sleeping since Grayson and I told her she needed to stop screaming… October 31__st__ is her birthday… she's very mischievous… she's becoming quite insolent... she doesn't listen to a thing we say… punishing her is doing no good… she's beginning to scare me… her attitude and actions send shivers down my spine… we went to the pet store, but we chose not to get any animals; something strange happened to one of the cats… Tyler Lockwood is in the hospital after an accident during the Family Picnic… Elena broke her wrist falling down the stairs, she said it was like someone had pushed her…'_

And so it went for most of the journal, with Miranda chronicling our lives to a 'T'. At some point her fear morphed into hatred, as did Grayson's, but it happened early on. They'd never treated me nicely after the first 2 months or so. I hadn't realised she'd paid such close attention, but she hadn't noticed any of the things I'd cause or connected any incidents to me…

'_Grayson is determined to find out what Gwyneth is.'_

Wait.

My hand hovered over the last words on the bottom of the page. All the strange things that happened around me… he'd noticed, of course. I flicked the paper over for the next entry to see if he had found out, if it had the answers I was looking for.

But there was nothing there. The final pages of the journal were missing. I ran a finger over the ripped seam. Someone had torn out the last 2 sheets.

Oh, that was just great. _Abso-bloody-lutely great._

Someone had snatched away my supernatural identity from me.

I fisted the pages of the journal into a crinkled mess.

* * *

The bartender came by with a new cup filled to the brim with lemonade. Jogging my foot against the floor, I latched onto the bent straw and began to chew on it and slammed my book closed. It was hours later, and I hadn't gotten over the tiff with Miranda's journal. The trees hadn't taken another beating, but Stefan was going to be a little short on life sustaining liquid.

I'd had to take my anger out on _something_.

And then I'd had to change out my bandages and clothes because of the sheer amount of blood on them. It would've been gross to go around with such dirtied attire. Not appealing at all.

I grabbed my phone, intent on texting Damon to bug him into coming to meet me but instead ended up on Stefan's list of contacts. He seriously didn't know anyone. The only people he'd decided were worthwhile having on his phone were Elena, his brother, Bonnie, Caroline, and some girl named Lexi. He was probably too busy brooding and hating on himself to make more friends.

About to hit the call button for her number, the phone buzzed with a text from the older Salvatore brother. _What are you wound up for?_

My brow creased, teeth chewing on the straw ceasing.

_Quit looking around. It looks soo suspicious._

I scowled. _Not in the mood, Salvatore. Where are you?_

As far as I could tell, he wasn't inside the Grill. Outside? I glanced at the window, sneaking a glimpse of a black jacket.

_Are you going to come in here or stalk from afar? _I texted, irritation flying through me.

Maybe if he distracted me, I'd be able to get past this fury at the lack of answers. However justified my anger was, I was verging on obsessive and as a great wizard (Albus Dumbledore) had once said, it did not do well to dwell in the past. I needed to move on instead of mull over it. I was going to become the next in a long line of brooders.

Or I was going to kill someone. I'd do that instead if it meant I'd feel better. Besides, it could be a fascinating project. A more hands on dissection… better than anatomy! I smirked at the table at the thought. I'd have to try it one day…

Sighing, I drew my copy of _American Psycho_ to me and flipped the book open to the page I'd been on. It had to be one of the most enchanting books to date and I could get lost in the grotesque world Ellis masterfully painted.

"Excuse me, miss?" a foreign voice said, pulling me from reading some time later.

It took me a minute to realise the bald guy was talking to me. No one called me 'miss'. Ever. I met his pale eyes and pasted on a smile. "Yes?"

"Could you please stop tapping your foot?" he requested politely.

_If I wanted to. _I nodded. "Sorry, it's a habit of mine." I shrugged, like it was out of my control.

He thanked me and turned around in his booth. I dropped my false smile and stared with narrowed eyes at the man's shiny head. And then I started tapping my left foot against the floor rather than my right. I would've stopped if I'd wanted to.

A hint of a cruel smirk played on my rosy lips as his back stiffened, shoulders arching back to straighten himself. A steady red tinge flamed his almost disproportionately small ears. He slowly rotated in his seat, and I dropped the crooked look.

"Ma'am," he stated flatly.

At his tone, I pretended to squint down at my leg and placed a hand on it to stop myself. "I didn't notice," I commented apologetically, not genuine in the slightest.

"Could you please make sure it doesn't happen again?" he asked grouchily.

"Sure."

He cast me a last glare with beady eyes and grudgingly whirled around. He was sitting alone with an emptied plate of food and a glass of watered down ice. The man could leave any time, if it was that much of a bother.

But I was egging him on to stay and provoke me further. Most everyone had left for the football game, since the sun had gone down and the rally was going to start in 15 minutes. The only people left were the waiter, bartender, him, and me. In short, the stocky man in the booth ahead was treading on extremely thin ice with a currently short-fused me in a scarcely populated Mystic Falls Grill. It was a disaster (translation: fun opportunity) waiting to happen.

I sucked a sip of lemonade through my warped straw, letting enough time pass so that the man would relax again. With no reply or appearance from Damon, I texted, _Where are you?_

He was somewhere nearby. I had the feeling that someone was watching me.

The vampire remained curiously absent. I rolled my eyes and began drumming my fingers against the table.

…

The man exploded, rounding on me. "Would you stop?!"

Setting my book aside, I cast him a sardonic smile. "I stopped with my legs like you asked."

"Well stop making noise with your fingers!"

I blinked at him. "You didn't say anything about them."

Jaw clenched, the stranger glowered at a spot on the wall next to my head. "Is that one of your habits, too?"

"As a matter of fact, yes it is," I responded glibly.

"Are you trying to make me mad?" he questioned gruffly.

"Trying?" I snorted. "I'm succeeding."

With a dirty look, the man rose and towered over me. I widened my eyes slightly and questioned, "You're not going to pummel a teenage girl, are you?"

The man's balled hands tightened by his sides.

I leaned back in my booth in a stance of relaxation, grinning tauntingly. "I have to warn you though, I'm not in the best of moods. I'm _itching _for a fight."

Against his better judgment, he chose to reply. Temper, temper! That'd get him in trouble one day. "If you're implying you'd beat me…" His derisive scoff grated on me.

"Beat you? No. No, no, no!" I leaned forward in my seat, lowering my voice into a whisper. "I will bash your brains in."

The man laughed. At least I thought it was a laugh. It sounded more like a bark. "Yeah, right," he said brusquely, placing meaty hands on my booth's table top.

The two Grill workers had disappeared. No witnesses and no cameras.

I edged closer to him. "You're not making my day any better. Let's see…" I swept my eyes across the table. "I'm feeling experimental."

With trained swiftness, I swiped my unused fork and impaled the guy's hand against the table. Blood trickled onto the booth. His yell was muffled by my other hand.

With the terror and water pooling in his eyes, I gathered he was _finally_ taking me seriously. I grinned, filled with twisted enjoyment and excitement. Jeez. I felt ten times better! I should've done this before.

"So," I began conversationally, "if I take my hand off your mouth, are you going to scream?" He jerkily shook his head. "Good!"

But as predicted, he sucked in air the moment I began to remove it. How disappointing. "Shhh!" I scolded, placing a finger against his lips.

I twirled the butter knife between my fingers. "Lllliiiiiaaaarrrr!" I sang cheerfully, plunging the piece of cutlery into his left hand. More blood painted the table.

And to think I'd said that I couldn't do anything with sutures! The bandages weren't getting in the way in this activity.

I put on a mock thoughtful face. "Now, should I pull these out or keep them in? Hmmm… which one hurts more?"

"Puh—ple—please l—let me go!" the man blubbered. It hadn't taken long for him to break.

_Loser._

"Why would I do that?"

"I—I won't te- tell—tell anyone!" he sobbed.

I still had a spoon to use. It needed to find a home in this pathetic man.

There was a whooshing noise and Damon was suddenly in front of me, staring me down with disapproval.

And that was understating it.

He pulled out the utensils with vamp-speed and I pouted. "What are you doing?" Damon, the supposed bad brother, hissed.

"Watching you ruin my fun," I complained.

Damon ripped into his skin and shoved his bloody wrist into the guy's mouth, muffling his protests. "This is fun to you?!" He stared at me like he was seeing a completely different person.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" I snapped, crossing my arms and clenching the silver spoon.

"You can't go around doing things like this in public!" he reprimanded, shaking the man away from him.

The bald stranger began to flounder at the miracle of his wounds magically healing. As much as he wanted to stay near his newfound saviour, the fact that he'd been fed blood that fixed him up was a turn off. Of course, whenever I looked at him, the man cowered behind Damon.

"How is it any different from what you did with Vicki? What- Vampires can play with their food but I can't mess around with some random person who got on my nerves?" I retorted.

"No! You can't!" Damon shouted. I expected the workers to come out from the back and see what the commotion was, but no one did. The vampire must've taken care of them.

"Vampires—the psycho girl said vampires… vampires aren't real. And his blood healed me," the man was whimpering, crouched on the floor with his hands to his chest. "This is insane. I'm having—a- a mental breakdown. Yeah… a-"

I huffed and threw the spoon I held at his face. "Gwen!" Damon said harshly, scowling. If he hadn't caught the silverware, it would've planted itself in the male's forehead. Melting from his frozen stance of terror, the guy folded further in on himself.

"It got him to shut up, didn't it?" I stated flatly.

"And?"

I sneered. "Stop being a bloody hypocrite, Damon Salvatore! Why is it okay for you to go around draining people of their blood and not for me to stab someone? I didn't kill him!"

"Because you can get caught!" he shouted, running stressed fingers through messy hair.

That certainly wasn't the answer I was expecting and it rendered me speechless. Staring past Damon, understanding pieced everything together. It'd been a look of _disapproval. _I couldn't do this in _public. _Granted, the look he'd given me had held a hefty amount of revulsion (shouldn't have been present what with his past and present actions), but I could easily overlook it.

As Damon bent over to compel the man to forget and leave, a grin popped onto my face. He was watching out for me! How sweet! My pent up fury fizzled into nothing.

Ah. That was much better.

The man I'd barely tortured hobbled away, leaving Damon and me alone. "What are you smiling for?" he questioned, wiping his hands together.

"Oooohhhhh, nothing." But the rubbish eating grin stayed on my face. "Soooo you want to go to the football game?"

Damon's stare was inscrutable. The silence stretched until he said, "Sure, why not."

I skipped out the door and chivalrously held it open for him. He strutted through without an acknowledgement to me. Eh. Whatever. I suppose it was a dial back on progress. It'd be resolved eventually, surely.

"Hey, you want to go to the Founder's Party with me?"

His eyebrows rose and I shrugged. "I have an invite and plus one. It's a win-win. I get to make people jealous with my positively handsome date and you get an in."

"Positively handsome date," he repeated with a smirk. "Well how can I say no to that?"

"Perfect," I purred.

We walked with the noise of the looming football game between us, but Damon wanted to say something. I could hear it in the absence of our usual chatter. Waiting somewhat impatiently, I bounced my fingers against my thigh- it really was a habit. As evidenced, I'd given up trying to stop it for a long time.

It'd started so long ago, I couldn't remember a time I didn't tap my fingers. Sometimes I wondered if it was something I'd picked up from my parents. It certainly had nothing to do with being a nervous tick. I didn't get nervous…

With an internal groan, I reminded myself that I'd need to start figuring out exactly what story my drawings told.

Not wanting to dwell upon how fast it'd either become exciting or so boring I'd want to die (because these things could go both ways), I cast a sidelong glance at Damon. His mouth was set hard, brow furrowed. So deep in thought it seemed as though he'd forgotten about me.

"Tell me what you're thinking," I coaxed softly.

It was strange to hear the gentle words leave my lips, and it was as if it were happening to someone else. I frowned at myself, nearly loathing my out-of-character actions. I was only working an angle. I needed a distraction from the work I'd inevitably have to do. I wanted to know what Damon was thinking. The two went hand in hand, and I'd do anything to get it out of him.

But I'd never thought I'd stoop so low as to ask so nicely.

Ah, regardless. It wrought the quickest outcome that turned in my favour.

With Damon's unflinching stare upon me, I chose to meet it head on. The way he refused to break eye contact didn't bother me in the slightest, the way it did with everyone else. Damon would be the one to break. He'd find it uncomfortable somewhere along the short line.

Empathetic people always did.

I noted the traces of crawling veins high on his face, as if he couldn't control it. Smirking, I said, "Someone's looking a little under the weather."

Damon shuddered, the simplest twitch of his arm giving him away. His stubbourn gaze slid away. Disappointing. He'd held out longer than the average person.

Which was another reason I could stand his company. Perhaps a reason why I almost liked him. He was nearly there, standing out against the crowd. A few tweaks here and there, improvements, and he'd be as fun as me. The perfect companion.

... For a while.

A haze like exhilaration descended upon me. I could kill him. Slip him some vervain... I could rip his heart out. I could shove pencils into his body and make him scream, beg for death. He'd never see it coming. It'd be funny, to have him murdered by someone he knew.

Those were always the funniest murders.

Or were they supposed to be the saddest? It wouldn't be the first time I'd confused those. Murder wasn't supposed to be 'okay'…

_Funny,_ I decided.

The funniest murders were when the victim knows the killer. They thought they knew and could trust the person that was watching the light leave their eyes. What must it feel like to have that sort of realisation? To know the person responsible for your demise is someone who's tricked you into a false lull of security?

Of course, I admit, I'd ruined the chances of a prey-knows-predator kill with Damon. He'd seen the real me too many times. Surely I could never make him trust me with his life.

Huh. It was an impossible challenge I was willing to take up.

But as Damon said, "I'm a little hungry, yeah," all my violent fantasies flew away, replaced by sound logic.

I couldn't kill Damon. At least, not now. It'd be too rash, too unplanned, too many loose ends. I didn't want to be implicated, nor risk it. Besides, he was stronger than me, and I highly doubted I'd get a one up on him that got me into a position where I could tear his beating heart out.

It'd be foolish on my part. If I failed, he could retaliate and while I didn't fear death, it wasn't on my to-do list. Not when living was a promising adventure that I had barely delved into.

The worst scenario was that he'd never talk to me again. In a place like Mystic Falls, I needed him to be around for me to mess with. Keep me entertained... Elena and her crew only went so far...

What had Damon said? Something about hunger? Well, he looked like he needed a shot of energy drink. Shrugging, I thrusted my pale wrist beneath his nose. "Want some bllloood?" I asked, waving my arm around to entice him.

He hesitated, unsure if this was a test or if I was being serious.

"I don't bit!" I added, smiling at my corny joke.

Since he'd decided I was really offering, he warned, "It hurts."

"No pain, no game, Damey," I replied, keeping my arm aloft to see if he would take it. I wanted to see how it felt, otherwise I never would've offered. With his still body, I gestured somewhat impatiently to the waiting appendage. Why wasn't he going for it? I would've.

I rolled my eyes. "Take it or leave it, vamp!" He bit his lip. Veins snaked up his face, eyes becoming ringed in red. What was he holding off for? "Three..." I drawled, "two... two and a half... oneee..."

Ow.

Lesson: You shouldn't blink around Damon. He'll catch you off guard just when you think he's not going to drink a drop of your blood and then rip your skin off with his savage hunger. His grip on my arm was sudden and unnecessarily tight, as if he were holding me in place in case I tried to run.

The initial pain of being bitten had faded away. He'd lied. It wasn't so bad to be drunken from. It was plain weird. I could feel my blood being drown out of my body, but that was it. It was by far the oddest sensation I'd ever felt.

Maybe it hurt more when you weren't a willing participant...

I stared at him with unveiled curiosity, watching his euphoric face. What did it taste like to him? It had to taste like something other than warm, bitter copper for a vampire to crave it so badly they became rippers. And what was so different about human blood that made animal blood so dissatisfying?

Damon drew back when I started to feel lightheaded. I brought my arm to my chest and held it firmly to staunch the flow of blood. A dull throb set in the wound.

Okay, so he hadn't lied. The after effects were bad.

Before I could say a word or suggest what would be nice for me, it was like the vampire was reading my thoughts and biting his wrist. He invaded my personal space and held up his arm for me to take, a politer version of the way he'd forced the bald guy to drink his blood.

Hmm. I'd essentially be drinking my own blood. But from a different vein. What? That was weird. Like a form of cannibalism.

Did Damon actually have any of his original blood left? Or was all the blood circulating his veins from various 'donors'. How did it suddenly have healing powers, too?

Vampire magic stuff made squat sense. _No use asking Salvatore about it, _I mused as I took tiny sips of his blood. I doubted he'd bothered to figure out what made him an almighty immortal, since he had no clue about the existence of other supernatural beings besides witches. Only daft idiots who were happy to remain ignorant didn't question their after-death, not dead life.

I released Damon from my hold, wiping my lips against the back of my hand. Vampire blood definitely didn't taste any better. The wound stitched itself back together, but I felt more than his fang punctures healing. The white gauze, which had felt fine before, chaffed against my skin. Scowling, I tore the offending bandages off.

The deep wounds I'd received were trying to repair themselves but the sutures prevented the flesh from knitting together. Rolling my eyes, I ripped the thin threads out. Seconds later I was running fingers over smooth skin.

"Seriously, Damon? You could've healed me and you didn't bother to do so?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "1) Didn't know you knew because someone didn't say anything and 2), I wasn't going to after you _busted_ my fingers!"

"Let bygones be bygones," I airily suggested and resumed our merry march to school. A minute later, Damon's footfalls shadowed me.

"You try letting it slide when a person's repeatedly harmed you," he huffed. At my arched eyebrow, he said, "You know what? Nevermind. You would forgive them."

I smiled. Of course I would. It's not like it's a big deal. Vampires shouldn't hold grudges either. They can't die so I didn't see why Damon got so upset with my tiny inflicted injuries that healed instantly. Not fair, if you asked me.

"You know me soooo well!" I said sweetly, being obnoxious and wrapping my arms around him in a bear hug.

"Get arf me," he demanded, voice muffled by assault.

"What was that? I should keep hugging you? Oh, if you insist!"

I only let go when Damon pinched my face and peeled me off of him. Pouting, I rubbed my sore cheek. "Why'd you do that?"

"Why do you think?" he shouted.

"Aww don't be like that, Damey! I'm showing... er... affection! Don't affectionate people give hugs?"

"Yeah if you mean you wanting to suffocate someone," he retorted lowly, swiping at the imaginary dust and grime on his leather jacket.

I laughed. Why would I ever want to kill Damon? He was great!

Mr. Tanner's pep talk was floating through the air, drowning out the massive cheering crowd. "Let's be honest here!" the coach began with enthusiasm that hadn't been heard in a long while. "In the past, we used to let other teams come into our town and roll right over us!" Cue the booing. "But that is about to change! We've got some great new talent tonight starting on the offense, and I'm gonna tell you right now, it has been a long time since I have seen a kid like this with hands like these!"

"Crackers, Tanner, that didn't sound creepy," I muttered. Damon cracked a smile.

"Let's give it up for Stefan Salvatore!" the teacher finished off.

I slapped my thigh. "If only I had one of the number 1 fan foam fingers! Except it'd say 'Steffy sucks'. That'd be a kicker."

"To you maybe."

I nudged Damon in the side. "Come on, you'd be right there with me. Admit it."

"No."

"Whattttever!"

"... I have only one thing to say to you..." Tanner continued. "Your Timberwolves are hungry!" More cheering. "And the Central High Lions are what's for dinner!"

But unfortunately for Mr. Tanner, his moment of glory on behalf of the football team ended seconds later. A crowd was forming around two boys, brawling. I listened closely, and then took off running. Forget walking at a leisure pace with my vampire acquaintance; I wasn't missing a fight between Hulk-rage Tyler and a drunk Jeremy.

* * *

**_Eek okay I hope that was good enough for the wait I put you all through. Until next time!_**


	8. Everybody Talks

_**Hi, yeah I know I don't give you guys enough... :3 love you anyways! As usual thanks for the reviews, favs, and follows! I light up whenever I get a notification for it.**_

_**So here I won't keep you long...**_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Everybody Talks**

I flopped onto Damon's bed, groan muffled by his soft mattress. Who needed a bed this huge? He was one person, who didn't visit that often. Was it necessary for him to have this big luxury? He probably hadn't paid for it, either. He probably compelled his way to get it and made some poor shmuck pay out of pocket. It was what I would do. But I wouldn't get an enormous bed all for myself with bloody silk sheets!

Gahhh! Sooo boring. My oh-so-generous host was MIA, cursing his brother with bad dreams. Wasn't good company that invited you into their house supposed to keep the guest happy? Well, Damon was a failure. An _exceptional _failure!

Nothing exciting had happened since he'd killed Tanner, and it was a pity I'd missed that. Damon had disappeared by the time Jeremy and Tyler's stupid fight had ended. I'd been too caught up with teasing Stefan and dropping hints to Elena about his 'secret' to notice.

I'd stuck around at the game with the hope that something unexpected would happen. Tanner being attacked by a 'rabid animal' wasn't what I'd had in mind, but it'd worked in a cinch.

And after a strenuous three days, the amusement had worn off and I was nearly back to obsessing. I had zero leads on that wretched diary of Miranda's. No missing page had miraculously shown up. Another week, it'd be a cold case. Another week, and I'd be unable to think about anything else.

Distractions…

I slid off the king sized bed and assessed my surroundings. Nothing to do in Damon's room, nothing to discover. As it turned out, the old chest he had held tons of blankets and zero valuables. He'd moved whatever souvenirs he'd collected in his life to a better hiding place and I didn't feel like making the effort to look. What a waste.

Yep. That meant there was only one thing left for me. I went to Stefan's room. That was where the party was at.

Damon tilted his head in greeting, bringing a finger to his lips. I mockingly saluted, examining with cold eyes the perpetually 17 year old Salvatore. His face was creased in a worried grimace. Huh. I thought the broodiness would go away during his unconscious hours, but it seemed the expression was part of his natural state.

Shrugging, I silently padded to the bookshelf covered wall to the left of the door, fingering his numerous possessions. When I'd first seen his room, I hadn't paid much attention to what was in it. Tons of clutter, obviously, but now I could tell that the whole middle row of this shelf contained Stefan's journals. Smirking, I slipped out the oldest leather diary and settled myself next to Damon, sitting on the desk.

Damon cast a sideways glance at me before returning to _not_ reading the book he held. He kept flipping the pages for show, but his concentration must've lain in the dream he was giving Steffy. I cracked the diary open to a random page.

A second later I slammed it shut with a yelp, threw it away from me, and hoped off the desk. Gross! Jeez! Of all the things I had the possible joy of coming across (like the reason why he didn't drink the human stuff), I had to see his writing mushy junk about Katherine and how he loved her. Seriously! Katherine! The rude sire who toyed with brothers and then faked her death, something I considered to be concrete fact.

Damon glared, Stefan shot awake with a gasp, and I choked out, "I'll never read another one of your diaries, I swear! Oh my crackers! NEVER again!" I doubled over, dramatically dry heaving.

"Gwweeennn!" Damon whined. "You woke him up."

The befuddled and only half-awake Stefan stared at us until what was happening fully set in. When it did, he jumped off his bed (also too large for one person) and snatched the journal from where it had fallen on the floor. With a dirty look, he gingerly returned it to its place on the shelf.

"Bad dream, brother?" Damon asked genially. I rolled my eyes. As if he didn't already know. "Do you know how easy it was to get into your head just now? You really need some human blood. It might even the playing field. Football reference- Too soon..."

Ha! You jerk.

Then, since Stefan didn't seem to care that I was gracing them with the glory of my presence, he decided to throw an antique letter opener (how could that have sentimental value?) at his brother's abdomen. I stifled a snicker as Damon raised an unimpressed eyebrow at a glowering Stefan. Unfazed, he drew out the weapon, idly playing with it afterwards.

"All right, I deserved that," the elder brother conceded. "But I just wanted to let you know, they caught the culprit. The animal responsible for killing coach Tanner and all those people."

Wait what? When had that occurred? I really needed to keep tabs on the Mystic Falls news... Or Damon should've told me that he was planning on an extended stay. Either one.

"What are you talking about?" Stefan asked, momentarily distracted from his righteous rage.

"It was a mountain lion! Really big one. It attacked a hunter this morning. It's all over the news." Damon kicked his feet off of the ancient desk and splayed out a hand. "'Deadly beast captured. All's well in Mystic Falls.'"

Of course the townspeople would buy a scapegoat as moronic as a mountain lion. Anyone with brains would know that a mountain lion doesn't leave a victim bloodless and they certainly don't normally go around killing humans.

"Why would you cover your tracks?"

"Excellent question, Steffy," I commented drily. He wasn't that dumb was he?

Used to ignoring me, Damon shrugged like I hadn't uttered a word. "I've decided to stay a while. And I'm just having waayy too much fun here with you and Elena."

I raised a hand. "I feel like I should be included in that statement."

Damon turned his head to the side to address me. "The key word is fun."

I made a face. "Mmm. I'd have to disagree! We've had some fun."

"Your definition of fun differs from mine."

"Gotcha. You kill for fun."

"No!"

I tilted my head sideways. "No?"

Sensing a trap, Damon shut his mouth while I grinned. Stefan gaped, so I rounded on him. "What was in that necklace you gave Elena? I wasn't kidding when I said it stunk."

"Vervain," Stefan said unsurely.

Oh. That explained why it smelt familiar.

"Vervain that keeps me out of her head," Damon flauntingly added, getting back on track. "Maybe that's not my target."

_Yeah, what you really want is to get into the Katherine double's pants and rub it in Stefan's face._

"Believe it or not, Stefan, some girls don't need my persuasion. Some girls just can't resist my good looks-" I coughed "- my style-" the jacket was admirable but… "- and my charm-"

"What charm?" I asked, dumbfounded.

Even with the threat of danger, Stefan had to swallow a smile. Ha, he wasn't so bad.

Damon glared briefly before finishing off with, "and my unflinching ability to listen to listen to Taylor Swift."

Done with his ego driven speech, Damon suddenly stuck the letter opener in Stefan, burying it deep in his chest. The veggie vamp fell to his knees, gasping. Eek. He really needed some people blood. Or, like, a gallon of animal blood every five minutes.

I smiled glibly. "I feel like part of the family, getting to see this brotherly spat."

"Shut up," they said at the same time.

"Whoa. Did you plan that? That was, like, awesome."

The older Salvatore swaggered out of the room, leaving me standing there. Ugh. He needed to work on his exits. And on the whole 'abandoning me' part.

Stefan gulped in air, bracing himself.

"I can pull that out for you," I volunteered, bustling over to him and dropping onto all fours. Before he could say anything, I ripped the blade out and dangled it in the air. For a second, I considered plunging it back into Stefan's prone body, but quickly decided against the impulse.

Besides, the thing was gross and I'd run the risk of getting blood on me again. The last time had been an utter fiasco that didn't warrant repeating. I needed to be more careful. Or wear one of those rain ponchos. Ha!

Since I didn't want blood on me, I let the letter opener plop onto the floor beside Stefan. He couldn't get mad; hard wood was easy to clean.

Leaning back on my knees, I stared at Stefan expectantly. "I thought you were on Damon's side," he said.

Well it was no 'thank you', but it would do.

I shrugged. He avoided my intense and constant stare. "I'm not on anyone's side," I replied in amusement. "I can do whatever I want."

In other words, he could never count on me as a reliable ally. I was just as likely to betray him as I was to help him.

"If you can do whatever you want, then why haven't you said anything to Elena about me?" Clearly it was a question that had been bugging him for a while.

"It wouldn't get me anything except a mopping and freaked out Elena. It's a lot funnier to watch you tip-toe on shards of glass around her with what you are. Especially since the longer it goes on, the worse her reaction to you keeping such a big secret from her will be," I replied. And it wasn't as if she'd believe me.

I glanced at my hand for the millionth time today at a muted tingle. It was still smooth and unharmed, but there were ghost pains. Was that a normal side-effect from vampire blood healing?

"So your agenda depends on how funny it'll be for you," he said, warily looking me over.

I nodded, grinning. "Basically, yeah. Unless I really, really like you. Which I don't, in your case. Though I have to admit I don't think you're as bad as I first did. You'd be more fun if you let go of the hero hair thing. Enjoyed life a little more."

"It's hard to do when Damon's shadowing me," he muttered.

"Noooo, don't think that's it. It's more about how you don't embrace your vampire life. I mean, you could be doing anything, but instead you're enrolled in another high school- I mean, how many times has it been? But at least you don't have to worry about grades..."

I shook my head.

"I digress! You went to Mystic Falls High for what? Elena? Did you stalk her? And don't you think it's a bit too much of a 'history repeating itself' situation? Except Elena's a human Katherine and the Salvatore brothers are vampires... So history repeating, reverse edition! Yeah- I'm a babble box. It's your turn to talk, Steffy."

He wrinkled his nose in distaste at my nickname for him. "How much did Damon tell you, exactly?"

All right, Damon had to have left the house because there was no way he'd be letting us have a civil chat without his input otherwise.

"Not enough," I stated. "And before you ask, I'm not telling you what he told me. He has a plan-" I winked "- and I'm not messing with it regardless of how bat-guano insane it is! He also won't tell me why you don't drink the good stuff. You want to?"

"About as much as you want to tell me about Damon's plan," he quipped.

"Then a lot!" I said energetically. "Tell meeee!"

"But you're not telling me." Uh oh. He was descending into the realms confusion.

"I'm respecting boundaries for once. Duh! It feels weird. Usually I'd be up in arms to cause a chain reaction of issues on my own but this was too good an opportunity to sit back and watch it blow up on itself. More entertaining. But the whole evil facade isn't working for him. He keeps doing things that contradict his proclaimed title of bad brother."

He quirked an eyebrow and I gave him a look. "You know you don't have to try and be subtle and clever about getting answers out of me. If I want to tell you, I will. You just have to ask."

Stefan nodded in acknowledgement; he was still trying to figure me out, like a puzzle to be solved. "What's Damon done to prove he's not a monster?"

"This and that," I answered vaguely. "If you haven't figured out the most obvious, I'm not telling you."

"He hasn't killed me."

"Bingo! We have a _winner_!" I performed a mini round of applause. "He won't kill you because you're family. His little brother. Even if he is technically a bad person, he hasn't stopped caring about you… In a warped kind of way, apparently, but it counts."

"Is that why you hang out with him? Because you know for sure that he cares?"

"No, I hang out with him because he's fun to be around." _Most of the time._

"Aren't you worried that he might kill or hurt you?" I couldn't tell if Stefan was probing me out of curiosity or concern. Curiosity would've been the logical answer, but people had this absurd habit of caring for others they barely knew.

"He's had plenty of opportunities to do it and he hasn't, so not so much." I patted my thighs, standing and stretching like a cat. I was getting antsy, sitting around doing nothing except conversing with Stefan. It wasn't exactly an exhilarating talk, either. "But just because I'm saying I'm not scared of him, it doesn't mean that I like him or that he likes me. I'm still expendable."

Stefan inspected me in silence. "Why stick around?"

My responding grin held a dark glimmer. "What's life without danger?" I waved in goodbye before pivoting.

He was frowning when he noticed my not bandaged hands. "Wait, what happened to the stitches?"

He was the first person to see them. I couldn't deny that it pleased me just a little bit. "Damon gave me some blood the night of the game. Before he killed Tanner."

"Out of the goodness of his heart?" Stefan wrinkled his nose.

I laughed. "I let him leech off of me so he was healing that wound. Anyway- see you later, Steffy."

Bounding down the hall, I launched myself into Damon's room. As suspected, he was mysteriously absent. "What kind of person leaves when they've opted to entertain guests?" I huffed, bundling myself in a blue blanket I'd found in his closet earlier.

His window curtains rustled and the older vampire appeared in my midst. "I didn't 'opt' for anything. You invited yourself," he said, arms folded across his chest.

I waved a hand at him, nose scrunched. "Semantics. You let me come in. Which means you shouldn't _rudely _abandon your debatably unexpected company."

He gave me a look that asked 'are you kidding me?'. "Does it matter? You were having words with brother mine."

"Polite words, in fact," I added, grinning.

"About what?" Damon sauntered closer to the bed.

"I told him all your nefarious, up to no good plans. We just can't get along if we're not discussing you!" I deadpanned, breaking into laughter.

"Ha-ha."

"No, seriously. We were talking about you. And me. But mostly you."

"About what?" he repeated.

I shrugged. "Ask your brother."

Damon released a loud exhale. "What are you doing that's so important that you can't tell me yourself?"

I wriggled around in my soft cocoon to find a more comfortable position to stare at Damon from. "I'm doing this thing- promoting sibling bonding! I'm initiating contact between the two of you."

Damon scowled. "Yeah well quit 'initiating'-" he made air quotations "'—and mind your own d- business."

"Language!"

At which the bloody _ridiculous_ vampire performed a serenade of profanities and I was forced to flee with my hands clapped over my ears as I sang, "La-la-la lllaaa- llaaaa laaa! I can't heeeeaaar you!"

_One day I'm going to track down liquid vervain and put it in a spray gun!_ I contemplated as I walked down the road from the Boarding House. Every time he used a curse word, boop! Spritz in the face. Burning pain. Consequence. Just like a dog. A more advanced dog. Whatever. He probably wouldn't take well to the idea or find it as hilarious as I did.

But for however long I could get away with it, it'd be so worth him ignoring me afterwards. Besides, he couldn't avoid me for long. I was that _pest_ that grew on you, especially if I wanted to.

And he said we didn't have fun! I snorted. Our all-nighter qualified as fun. No matter how much he denied it. Maybe Damon was one of those guys who were mean to the people they liked…

I should hang out with Stefan! He had been surprisingly okay to talk to. Boring as a bored, but that could be improved. I could shadow him until my presence became a norm and hopefully irritate Damon.

Ugh. That was a big effort. I set the idea aside. Did I really want to sacrifice time better spent elsewhere on Steffy just to mess with Damon?

…

Ehhh.

I needed to place myself on Stefan's good side. Stalking him wouldn't be a good starting place, then. Marks off for going to the Founder's Party with Damon. And for hanging out with the bad brother. And Stefan was already wary of me. And he looked at me as if he knew something was amiss with me. Definitely needed to quench those suspicions.

_Work._ I huffed, stopping in my tracks. Had the walk to the Salvatore's always been this long? It'd seemed shorter all the other times… If I went back, would Damon give me a ride? No, probably not. Just to spite me. Like a jerk.

A car horn honked, vehicle sidling up beside me. I glanced at the driver, licking my lips. My brief tingle of hope sizzled out at the sight of Stefan. Not someone I could toy with or injure. "Need a ride?" he asked.

Better than nothing, I decided as I dashed around into the passenger seat before he could question his offer.

* * *

I sat twirling my straw in a corner booth at the Grill. To be precise, the very same one I'd committed my _dastardly _crime against the wimpy man. What could I say? I was drawn to the spot. Reliving it in my mind gave me a small thrill, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

My eyes traced the dent in the table's surface, the only marking that I'd stabbed the man's hand. How sad it was that no one had been there to see… I turned to staring down Vicki and anyone else I thought fit to be prey.

Imaginative Murder. It was a game I played when I was bored out of my mind (or, say, ignoring a mystery of identity). It was simple. I dreamed up the most creative deaths I could think of. If I knew the person (which more often than not was the case), I tried to make the death as ironic as possible. Sheriff Forbes get shot with her own gun in some cases, stabbed with a stake to the heart in others. Preferably, Vicki would get a drug overdose, but then no one would know it was murder, and that sucked.

I wouldn't be that murderer that got caught because they wanted to be in the spotlight, I was too smart for that, but seriously—death had to have a flare. Overdose? Bbbboooorrring! Too generic. Happened all the time. And any sort of poisoning. Not my style. That was too far away. I wanted my hands dirty, but not too dirty. It was a thin line, I had to admit.

But of course that was a lie. The stunt with the stranger had been way too much fun! I wanted my hands doused in blood… I wasn't in the mood for it at the moment, though. The thought of planning a murder sounded like painfully tedious work. Work I had no willpower to follow through on.

It was an impulse thing. Kill on the spur, worry about clean up maintenance later. You went with the flow.

… of blood.

I snorted.

My chewed up straw ceased to move when Caroline and Bonnie walked in. Their deaths were the most fun to think up because they talked to me most. Which also cancelled out the possibility of my killing them. Even if I covered my tracks, it was shoddy and risky work killing people you knew.

I'd be like the Zodiac Killer or something. No commonality between victims, no M.O. A ghost right beneath their noses…

Ha. My soundtrack could be "Stayin' Alive" while I hacked people apart. _That'd _be a riot. The next time I saw Damon, I'd have to suggest that to him. Make a soundtrack for him. 'Fun Tunes to Unfortunate Death.'

Slapping a friendly grin on my face, I slid off my bench and waved at Elena's best friends. "Hey! What are you two doing here?" I asked nicely, coming to a stop in front of them.

The blonde squirmed slightly beneath my intrusive stare. Inwardly, I cheered. I loved being able to make people feel like something was wrong when there was seemingly no reason behind it.

The best kind of fear to cause was the one where there was no obvious _cause. _Just that feeling! And people were always stupid enough to brush that instinct aside, devalue it, act like it didn't matter. The easiest prey in the world...

"Caroline says she's taking Adrian to the Founder's Party," Bonnie pouted when the taller girl doesn't answer.

Adrian… It took a second to place the name to a face, but when I do my interest was instantly captured. As much as the guy set me off in annoyance, I had to figure out who he was.

I hadn't put much thought into it since we'd first met—or rather first officially met. Apparently he'd decided it had been important to change his appearance and worm his way into a Gilbert dinner party all those years ago.

It made me wonder if he'd popped up in any other places throughout my life under a disguise. Bloody weirdo. Didn't he know stalking wasn't cool?

Pretending I didn't know who Adrian was, I verified, "That guy with the Kool-Aid red mop he calls hair?"

"Such an eloquent description," Caroline giggled, toying with the scarf wrapped around her neck.

"I don't hear you denying it," I shot back.

"Only because it works with his looks. He's hot." Typical, shallow Caroline.

"Is your mom okay with you taking him to the dance?" Bonnie asked.

"Does it matter?"

"He's older, sexy danger guy," she said.

Ever the voice of reason.

"Yeah, I wouldn't call him 'sexy'. Creepy, maybe. Isn't it illegal to date a minor?" I added.

"Oh come on, Gwen. He's not some creepy sick-o." As she said it, she adjusted her scarf and I glimpsed a darkened area of skin. Black and blue, a bruise like her throat had been squeezed. Tut, tut. Someone wasn't a very good boyfriend!

Unless she was in to that sort of thing, but I highly doubted it. So the question was, how did Adrian get pummelled into the state where she could act completely normal?

I smirked and sang, "If you sssssaaaay sooo, Caroline."

She rolled her eyes skyward at my response and Bonnie decided to take up the opportunity to return to her dilemma: "Who am I supposed to go to the party with?"

"Go with Elena," Caroline suggested.

"She's taking Stefan."

No surprise there.

To me: "Are you going with someone?"

"Yeah, actually. I'm going with Damon."

"Stefan's brother? That Damon?"

"That's the one," I answered.

"Am I the only one that hasn't met Damon?" Caroline asked with a slight whine.

"You have. Remember that time Bonnie took you to the coffee shop to get you sobre? That hot black haired guy? You ditched me with Damon."

She frowned. "Huh."

"Don't worry, you can talk to him at the party. I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you."

Ha, no he wouldn't.

"Guess you have to go by yourself then, Bonnie," Caroline said with disinterest.

That's cold!

"Gee, thanks."

"What was with the 'older, sexy' comment anyway?" Caroline bounced back to. "Is that an official witch twitter tweet?"  
I snorted, but Bonnie was far from amused. "No more witch jokes, okay? That whole Mr. Tanner prediction thing has me freaked."

"It's because you have powers," I whispered.

"Not funny," she reminded sternly.

As Caroline and Bonnie lapsed into conversation about dates and dresses, my hoodie pocket buzzed. I wiggled out Stefan's mobile. A text from Damon. _How would you like to spread a little rumour to Elena's friends for me?_

I grinned down at the screen. _Love to._

* * *

The next morning, Bonnie and Elena were getting ready for the dance, which meant spending an inexplicable amount of time over what makeup to wear. Considering the dance was an hour away, I was still in my pyjamas when the doorbell rang. Shutting the fridge and picking up my apple juice, I shuffled into the front room.

Tyler was waiting on the other side.

So I slammed it shut in his face.

He continued ringing the door and I considered ripping the ringing mechanism out and shoving it down the Lockwood's throat. Ha, that would scare him…

Elena walked in from the kitchen where she, Bonnie, and I had previously been congregated in. "Who is it?" she asked.

"A homeless beggar," I deadpanned.

Fake sister sighed. "You can't keep doing that to Tyler." Giving me a pointed look, she opened the door wide open. The relief on Lockwood's face was almost comical when Elena greeted him and it wasn't the white haired girl from his nightmares.

"Do what?" I asked innocently. I waved. "Hey, Tyler. I thought you were someone else."

Nope. I thought he was the same frightened boy from when we were 7. A bully that had made me angry. And anger made me impulsive. So the whole incident was his fault, when you considered it. But it had never been an issue. Tyler only had vague inklings of what had happened, and it was my word—the word of a fully conscious, crying, _terrified _girl—against concussed boy. An unreliable source, poor thing. Very fortunate to be alive.

Case closed.

But stupid, suspicious Tyler hadn't gotten the memo yet. He'd been grateful at first, but then he'd become antsy. Never wanting to be around me, jumping when I was near him, traditional expression of a deer caught in headlights. Nasty nightmares, I'd heard Carol Lockwood tell Miranda years ago.

Lucky for me, the citizens of Mystic Falls more or less chalked this nervousness up to guilt at being so mean to me when we were little. It had to be that or people noticed and didn't breathe a word about it. Turning their eyes the other way or whatever.

"Hi, Gwen," Tyler tiredly replied. I could see now that he was holding a box in his hands.

I passed him a faux smile as Jeremy came down the stairs, darting back into the kitchen. After the last time, I had no interest in what would be anticlimactic bickering between the two boys. Because of a girl, no less. Were love triangles really that common, anyway?

There was Damon, Katherine, Stefan. Tyler, Vicki, Jeremy. Next thing you knew Stefan, Elena, Damon would be a thing. Didn't they have anything better to do than focus on their love lives?

… Okay, maybe Damey and Steffy didn't, since they were immortal and all. Unless they wanted to, like, actually contribute to the future that they'd be living in. But since they were playing human in an insignificant town like Mystic Falls, that wasn't part of their present agenda.

I chomped down on my straw. If I was going to be a vampire and live for forever and a day, would I be concerned with the environment? Maybe I'd volunteer every once and a while to pick up litter. If I got bored. So I'd probably be very prominent in the eco-friendly awareness world…

Huh. I'd better the world just to quench my boredom.

And help tear it down.

I snorted, placing my drink back onto the table with a thump. Feeling Bonnie's gaze on me, I lazily flicked my gaze toward her. The dark skinned witch bit her lip. I narrowed my eyes. "You promised you wouldn't tell," I said accusingly.

"No, I won't," she replied almost immediately. _Liar, _I thought with satisfaction. "I just feel bad. She should know…"

Ah, yes, the innocent Elena was being blind-sided. Or so the story went. After Damon's text at the Grill yesterday, I'd gotten to spread a brilliant fib. With restraints, because the 'bad brother' didn't trust me to come up with the kind of lie he wanted. But I got to throw in a couple of things, strictly for dramatic flair, of course.

Not missing a beat, I frantically shook my head. "You can't! Damon will chew me out if he finds out I told!"

Inside, I was grinning like a kid on Christmas. The moment I left, she was going to spill all to Elena. What kind of best friend would she be if she didn't? My story was that my fake sibling wouldn't believe me if I told her the 'truth' about Stefan, which was true, though it would worm its way deep into her brain. But it'd be so much better coming from Bonnie! Much more impactful.

Bonnie nodded unconvincingly as Elena re-entered the room.

"Later," I yawned, back-pedalling to the stairs. At some point, one of them had pulled out nail polish and I wasn't going to be caught dead around the stuff today.

I lingered long enough in my room to hear Bonnie tell Elena what I'd told her Damon had confessed to me. That once a woman named Katherine had been in the Salvatores' lives. They'd both dated her, she chose Damon. And like a loser Stefan went crazy and did everything in his power to get Katherine back, as if she was worth the effort. Eventually it worked and Katherine went returned to Stefan's arms. I'd added the tid-bit that a while later, she'd realised she'd been manipulated and was going to meet Damon when she died in the _tragic_ fire.

While I'd told Bonnie this, though, I'd omitted my crude and fantastic commentary so that she'd completely and whole-heartedly believe me.

The real story was that Damon was the one who'd been cast aside, as much as he wished it hadn't been so. He was the one lost in love, fighting for Katherine and ignorant to who she was- a manipulative vampire who'd fractured the relationship between the brothers. It was pathetic, really, the way he blamed his brother for the things Katherine had done and couldn't just admit that he would always look after his baby bro' and move on.

So heart-breaking, so amusing.

It would've been a good story for pity points, if that's what he'd preferred. But whatever. As Damon had said when I'd suggested a couple of tweaks, his plan technically wasn't any of my business and I should 'butt out'. It was his loss.

As usual, my stellar ideas and thoughts were put aside, irrelevant. Sometimes I just wished people would notice me. I grinned manically. Sometimes I just felt like doing something rash. Sometimes I just wanted to make a statement. Loud and clear, you can't ignore this, can you?

I reflexively curled my fingers.

Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes.

_It'd be fun._

* * *

Forcing his unwanted company upon his little brother was sadly the most exciting part of his day. Damon didn't see how Stefan could survive the mundane experience that Mystic Falls had to offer. Last he'd checked, Stefan had enjoyed throwing himself into the forefront of every war the world had to offer. Self-sacrificing, self-loathing, guy he was. Always in the front line. Dying. Or in New York. With Lexi. Who was the only person Stefan seemed to smile and relax around.

Until Elena had come along and Stefan had saved her from that car crash. At least Damon had had the decency to compel away Elena's memories of him away and hide in the shadows while he enacted his plan to rescue Katherine. Stefan just had to stick around, too. Damon still had no clue why he'd been in Mystic Falls all those months ago in the first place. Maybe he'd gone to visit Mother's grave, but Damon had never seen him in the cemetery. And he'd know. He visited every year.

So Stefan had been there, 'coincidentally' and then he'd found Elena Gilbert. First impulse, Damon surmised, had his baby brother stalking the grief stricken 16 year old. Though Stefan wouldn't have called it stalking. He'd called it curiosity.

Curiosity, he'd claimed when Damon had asked, had led to his lurking in the shadows before coming into public light when the school term started. Curiosity had led to his talking to Elena, even though that had never been the plan. Curiosity had led him to doing such a thorough search on Elena.

Okay, maybe Damon hadn't gotten the official confirmation on every single one of those statements, but he was 100 percent sure he was right.

Curiosity had led to Stefan stealing away Elena's heart. It was like watching him woe Katherine, a stake to the heart.

If he had one.

Stefan didn't seem to think he did anymore.

A punch in the gut, there.

But that was what he wanted his brother to think. When people expected the worst, he had nothing to live up to. No one to disappoint. He could do everything in his power to get Katherine back without having to worry about repercussions.

Then he could rub it in Stefan's face. Prove to Katherine that he was the one she should be with. 145 years, and he was the one that had never given up on her, his one and first love. Katherine Pierce would be his.

_Obsessive, much?_' a voice rang in his mind.

Damon's brow furrowed. He had no clue how it'd happened, but Gwen had most definitely rooted herself in his head. Underneath his skin. Travelled through his veins like a poison that was slowly killing him.

She had that 'charming' effect.

He glanced at his brother's back, halting in his search for a shirt. Stefan's arms were tense, veins bulging while he was ready to pounce or bolt. If he could see Stefan's face, he'd probably have holes burned into his head from the heat of little brother's distrust. Damon wondered if he felt the same way about Gwen.

Maybe it was just him whose brain got scrambled around the odd girl. Maybe it was just him that found it extraordinarily tempting to give in to his darkest nature. The one completely uninhibited. Maybe it was just him that got a thrill being around her, a shock of danger that would only douse him in gasoline and burn him alive. And he didn't care. It was intoxicating.

As irritating as she was- and, mind you, he went to great lengths to enforce this view- she was fun. Something he could barely admit to himself without sneering. If she figured out he really thought she was good company, he'd never hear the end of it. As if she needed the ego boost. She already had an inflated ego about herself that rivalled his own.

At least he could own up to it. Yes, he knew he was handsome. He flaunted it. And he knew he did. He appreciated his drop-dead hot appearance. The eternally youthful 22 year old.

Whereas Gwen didn't. _Gwen_ had such a giant ego that she'd probably already accepted that he thought she was fun. No words needed. _It's a given,_ he could imagine her carelessly stating with that out of place British accent and that blinding, crooked grin.

A grin that could easily vanish as soon as it could appear. He couldn't ignore the way she could switch emotions like turning a faucet on and off.

Breaking his fingers. Cruel comments. Sweet words. An innocent face and well-meaning grin. Threatening him. Punching a tree like a crazy person. A world of contradictions. Stabbing the bald guy at the bar like it was nothing.

Everything she'd done flashed through his mind. She'd point blank tortured the man. Tried to kill him after he'd arrived. Just to shut him up. And she hadn't cared afterwards. He'd ruined her fun. Like that had been the biggest issue and not the bleeding mess she'd made.

If he wasn't considered caring next to her, then his name wasn't Damon Salvatore.

He could think that, and he'd be a total hypocrite. He'd still used her to cause issues. In fact, he trusted her to. But he didn't trust her beyond that. She was certainly a wild card he hadn't expected. A wrench in the plan. But... an exciting one. An opportunity that he wasn't going to pass up or turn away from.

Even if he knew she was 10x worse than he'd ever be and could ruin things without raising a finger.

Irritated with his train of thought, Damon pulled out a black long sleeved button up and walked over to the mirror. As suspected. If you looked up the definition of distrustful, you'd see a picture of a broody Stefan Salvatore.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Do they still wear ties at this thing?"

Stefan swirled his glass of alcohol. "Why are you even going?"

"It's only fitting. We were at the very first one, remember?" Damon asked. How could he forget? It'd been such an eventful night. _For Stefan,_ he thought sourly.

"I think it's better if we don't draw attention to ourselves."

Reminder: Call attention to a discrepancy on the original party registry while Elena was present. Gwen would certainly get a kick out of it.

Damon scowled briefly at his shirt, tugging it open. "So you should stay here. I'll see to it Elena has a good time." Here, Damon smirked suggestively. Stefan pursed his lips, sipped his drink. "My goodness, I've driven you to drink!"

"Considering you're my guest to the dance, you should definitely be making sure I have a good time. Not that your obsession with Katherine and her double isn't adorable or whatever, but I'm beginning to think I don't mean anything to you. She's taking up all the space in your cold, dead heart!"

It took a second to register the words, but it came to him in an unbidden rush. There was no denying the familiar voice. Too much talking, unnecessary emphasis on regular old words, a sing song voice that was surprisingly alluring in a makes-no-sense kind of way. You know, like you didn't want to find the person unwittingly distracting your attention, but she (or he) was anyway.

Definitely Gwen.

He hadn't heard her come in.

"Hey, Stefffffyyy," she next greeted, all smiles and rainbows and everything nice. It was hard to believe that this was the same girl who'd done those terrible things a couple of nights ago. He could almost convince himself that it'd been someone else. Not Gwen.

But even now he could sense that something was off. An instinctive feeling.

The one that everyone shook off and ignored.

To his credit, Stefan tipped his glass toward the 16 year old and acknowledged her with a "Gwen."

Damon didn't think she was worth greeting, so he began shrugging his shirt on.

Smirking and uninvited, she prowled into the room like she owned the place and settled herself onto a table top, legs dangling above the ground. He had no idea how she could convey that powerful, self-confident air when she was wearing _children's _pyjamas. Seeming to note his staring, Gwen listed her head to the side, snow white (where'd the streaks go?) braided hair falling over her shoulder. "Do you make it a habit to go around shirtless?"

He felt his lips twitch upwards for a split second, but he held fast. Not answering.

"Stefford, does he go around shirtless all the time? Or is that just to impress the male inhabitants of the house? Not that I'm judging but, ew _incest._"

Stefan choked on his drink, sending Gwen into peals of laughter. Yeah, so she was a star with delivery.

He wasn't talking to her either way. He wasn't sure why. Maybe to see how long he could go without uttering a word. Maybe to see how much he'd become used to her presence. Maybe to see how long she could go with him ignoring her. To push her a little. Just a little.

And a little bit more… More…

See? She was such a bad influence.

He _never _would've done something like that before her.

"He's just getting ready for the dance."

She held up her wrist, checking her non-existent watch. "The dance is a half hour away. What are you doing Steffy? Your hero hair doesn't look properly moussed with self-righteousness. I figured you'd spend as much time as Damon staring at yourself."

A jab.

Damon bit his tongue. He was going to see this experiment through to the end.

Who knew he had that much self-control?

"He's been hogging the mirror," his brother replied flatly.

"Ha, you cracked a funny, Stefan," Damon commented.

Penetrating violet eyes flickered toward him in question. A crease appeared on her forehead for a split second before vanishing. Like she was trying to figure out what was going on. Like she didn't understand.

Hard to imagine…

_Sociopath, actually_, her voice sang, reminding him of their conversation. He really needed to figure out exactly what that meant.

Buttoning his shirt up, Damon strolled to the table and alcohol.

"You guys have any food? Like, people food and not yucky blood? Really, worst experience ever- trying blood. Not what I expected." Damon restrained an eye roll (that would be a sign that he was listening to her). Gwen couldn't have just asked like a normal person? Way too wordy.

"Er… there might be some in the fridge," Stefan murmured.

"I meant, like, real food not rabbit food. I kind of sort of checked the kitchen before coming up," she stated, swinging her legs like a kid. "I was just being polite."

"…okay?"

That was a relief. Stefan clearly had no idea how to deal with Gwen any more than he did.

"Soooo?"

Stefan's gaze flicked to Damon in a rare plea for help. He gave a noncommittal shrug before a worn photo caught his attention, reminding him of why he'd come to mess with Stefan in the first place. One of the few pictures of Katherine, and it belonged to Stefan.

He momentarily felt as if the universe was giving him a sign.

Naturally, he shoved that away. There was no such thing as a 'cosmic sign'.

Unable to help himself, he said, "1864. You and Katherine were the perfect couple. It was hell watching you dance with you."

"My happiness was short-lived, as you well know," Stefan replied, raising his glass to his lips.

Damon smirked faintly. "I remember. I left the party early, I was waiting for her. The night you dropped her off, I was waiting just inside. You were such a gentleman, gave her a kiss on the cheek. And what she really wanted was… _well_."

Damon had no clue if the point of that story had been to hurt Stefan or to hurt himself. Because it seemed to have done both. Cool, he poured himself some of the alcohol.

"He's to history repeating itself, huh?"

He raised the drink, catching a whiff of something that didn't belong. How cute. He turned the glass over and watched the liquor cascade out.

"I admire your effort, Stefan. Pouring yourself a drink then spiking the bottle with vervain. I'm not some drunk sorority chick. You can't roofie me. But I can't help but feel a little used. I thought we were having a moment." He shrugged, sighed as if disappointed. "I have to go to the party angry. Who knows what I'll do?"

Damon rounded and did a double take. How could he have forgotten that Gwen was here? How the heck did she do that? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother go rigid, too. A glance darting every which way but always returning to the smirking girl.

"That was certainly fun to watch. Though I'd been hoping you wouldn't realise about the vervain and poison yourself."

Damon scowled. She pouted. "Don't be like that. You've been ignoring me. Fair is fair."

"Don't you have a dress to change into?" he snapped, unable to help it.

She grinned in triumph. "As a matter of fact, I do." Didn't move.

Damon gestured at her to go. "Well you should go do that. We're not going to be late so I'll give you a ride back to Elena's."

Her Cheshire smile widened. "I dropped it off here the other day while you guys were sleeping."

She hopped off the table and raced out the door.

"How does she do _that_?" Stefan asked the air.

"It's better not to know," Damon sighed.

* * *

I gave myself a once over in the mirror before swishing out of Damon's room. The one strap black, layered and almost filmy, pleated dress swished with me. It made me feel like a ghost, with the way my skin and hair was stark against the dark material. My eyes popped, too, a dark, violent purple.

It was awesome, perfect.

Whatever Damon's issue was, attempting to ignore me like that, he wouldn't be able to now. If he tried, I'd do a lot worse than let his brother try and vervain him. I didn't know what his deal was. Was it some kind of game? Ignore Gwen to see what she'd do? Because I had no qualms with causing him bodily harm if that's what he was going for. Eh. Maybe he was into that sort of thing. Like a twisted fetish.

Hey, I didn't know what vampires got into when they lived forever. He'd probably tried just about everything. I made a mental note to ask him.

But, it seemed he was back to the ignoring angle as he led me to the car and chivalrously opened the door for me like that would charm me. I gritted my teeth. Tapped my fingers. I didn't want to be ignored.

I wanted to be acknowledged. I wanted him to notice me. Do anything. Not be a silent mannequin. Not be every other ordinary loser in town. He needed to be the sort of person that made quips and amused me. That was the whole point of hanging out with the elder Salvatore.

He was just upping the appeal of lurking around Stefan, because that guy was a whole lot more fun with his plot to vervain Damon.

And I'd told that warped story about Katherine to Bonnie! I mean, come on! That rewarded me with some 'friend' points! Even if I'd done it mostly out of self-interest! But what did that matter? I'd helped Damon with his endgame, no questions asked. Go me.

The tense fury eroded from me as quickly as it had come.

Whatever. It was almost funny. He thought he could push my buttons. Push _me_ over the edge. I snorted derisively. That was okay. Admirable. Maybe this little side quest of his would make him more lenient to my other dalliances…

I huffed. "What kind of food do you think Carol will have?" No answer. "Should be good, whatever it is." Eyes on the road. "I'll eat all of it. I'm _starving._ You guys should stock up on food. Human food. Like, wouldn't it help with cravings?" Not even a change in facial expression. "Nah, you're right. I'd gorge myself, too. I don't know how Stefford does it." Hands still on the wheel. "Eh. I think I like Steffy better. Stefford is just… no."

Ahhh. If he was sure he wanted to be like that… No car accident for us. I wasn't missing the party—and the chance to anger the Lockwoods with my mere presence—just to ruin Damon's prized car.

WELL. That left only one option. I'd talk the whole ride. See if I could creep him out into speaking.

Hmm… I had plenty of horror stories… Where to start?

"Ooh okay. I have a great story." I lowered my voice, eyes darting to the vampire in the driver's seat. "Want to hear it?" I growled. Not expecting a response (nor did I get one), I quickly continued with a peppy, "Soooo wwwaaaayyyy back when, in my _young_ years, like I was 10—ugh! young and naïve—Ellllena and Jeremy convinced mummy and daddy to get a _dog_. Didn't listen to me, but hey, I wasn't complaining. We'd be getting a _pet_.

"That was great and all. I was… Well, I wouldn't say _excited_, but I saw a chance for opportunity. Sssseeee and _take_ kind of thing, you know? I don't know if you know, but I'm the kind of person to take. In my _nature_, and what not." I waved a hand.

"_Aaannnyway_, Miranda drrrrragged me along on the adventure. Super-psyched Elena, bouncing off the _walls_ Jeremy. Pppperfect attitude for kids getting their first pet. Me, ehhhh. It was okay. Normal. Same old, same old."

I paused, boring holes into the side of Damon's head with my predatory stare. His grip on the wheel was making his knuckles pale. I grinned.

"We get to the sho_p. Not_ exciting! Barking puppies and sleeping kitties! Even a couple of birds. Chirping. _Just_ chirping. No shutting up! Ooohhh, how I wanted to silence those infuriating_ things_. But the cages were in the back. No cameras, surprise, surprise. Really, quite lucky for me. Oh so opportune."

I laughed in delight, an edge of malice in the dark, manic cackle.

'Bad' brother Salvatore squirmed in his seat, riveted.

"There was this one dog in the back corner," I continued lowly, rhythmically. "_Cute_ little mutt. Maybe 8 weeks old. A neglected puppy. Innocent, tiny, _vulnerable_. It would've been perfect, except the thing kept woofing. Little 'yips.'

"No one was around, and it was _tempting._ Oh, very tempting. I couldn't help it! Can yyyooouuu _guess_ what happened, Dddaammmeey?"

The laughs were loud and proud. They came easily. Laughing always did. A sick, sweet, stream that flowed without stop until they tapered into rasps and gasps for air.

Damon shuddered.

I settled back down, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. I didn't have to imagine the twisted smile on my face and Damon's grotesque look. Fine by me. A reaction, even. Surely that true story had spurred him into speaking. It would anyone. Anyone normal.

But when I glanced over, Damon was staring flatly at the road ahead. Expressionless. Trying to look unaffected.

A stab of amusement sucker punched me in the gut, sending me into another spiral of laughing. Tears pricked my eyes in response.

"Okay, okay," I said after a couple of minutes. I have enough time for another tale. It's _bloody_ brilliant. Trust me, this one'll get you. Like the other one did. Points for you, Damon, keeping your emotions under wraps. Acting like it didn't make your _skin_ crawl at all. But I know better, _believe_ it or not. Not my 'ego' getting in the way and affecting my perception. A girl llllllike me _knows_ this kind of stuff. Instinct."

I exhaled slowly, gathering my thoughts. I hadn't told this one since it'd happened. Not that that one had been the truth, either. A tweak here, a 'correction' there, and I'd created a plausible fib that no one could refute.

"_Once_ upon a time," I began with a flourish, "there were two 7 year olds trekking the treacherous woods when the wind was blowing a chilly autumn breeze. The very same forest in which the white haired girl had met a nefarious vampire years later. She was being followed by the mean kid, Tyler Lockwood. He was yelling the most ridiculous things at her, the kind of stuff only cruel kids intent on harming can come up with, which is a lot nicer compared to teens and adults with their incessant bickering...

"But there was Tyler, following the girl when he should've stayed at the camp site with the rest of the Founding families for the picnic. He didn't know what he was getting into, but he'd been messing with the wrong girl.

"'Hey!' he yelled. 'I bet they haven't noticed you're gone.'"

"It wasn't the words that had gotten to the girl. She could live with those. They didn't bother her because she didn't care. It was the simple matter that the Lockwood boy couldn't take a hint. He was annoying her, and she saw-" I licked my lips "- an _opportunity_. Her unreasonable anger swirled up in her, building... building... It came from nowhere, an icy calm that swept her away. She was the eye of the storm. She knew exactly what she could do, how it would go down to the simplest detail. Astoundingly clear for a youth.

"Her purple eyes stared right into Tyler's. Blank and unfathomable. No one could tell what she was thinking. When she wanted it so, she made the other kids squirm, the adults uncomfortable. Easy-peasy."

Damon cleared his throat, and he strayed his attention from the road.

Success.

"Now Tyler was nervous. This wasn't the reaction he'd wanted, expected. She was supposed to be upset, in tears. But she'd never felt more alive, more powerful than she did in that moment. With one shove, the girl pushed him off the cliff ledge he'd been on and he fell, fell, fell." I made a whistling noise and a tiny 'boom' to signal his fall. "He landed with a dull thud a few feet below. Not a fatal drop, but enough to cause damage."

Here, Damon scoffed. "You did not do that."

I smirked. "Did."

"Yeah, then how'd you get away with it?"

"I screamed for help and told the police and parents that he'd tripped and fallen over the edge."

"And they believed you?" he asked sceptically.

I shrugged. "Obviously. I'd been sobbing and hysterical, and people will believe anything when they want to. Who wants to accuse a 7 year old girl of attempted murder?"

A rhetorical question. Of course no one wanted to think a child was capable of something so... despicable. To even dare to think so was a crime. Shame!

I swallowed my snicker.

"You are such a head case."

I twirled my hand. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm a head case that got you to break your silence. Pat on the back for mmmmeee. What was with that, anyway?"

He shrugged. "You're a bad influence. I wanted to see what you'd do the longer I ignored you."

Mock pouting, I frowned. "You were this close. Just a minute more and maybe I would've sliced you up like chopped meat."

"My dream," Damon replied dryly, slowing the Camaro so that he could scour the area for a parking spot. I could see a line stretching from the Lockwood mansion and we were a block away. Damon ought to compel our way to the front. No way was I going to wait in that long thing.

I patted the vampire's shoulder. "If it's any consolation, I did consider veering your precious car off the road."

One eyebrow quirked. "1. Even if you got hurt? And 2. No way in h- are you ever going to drive this car. I don't trust you not to crash my baby."

"Getting hurt—who cares about that? Details, details. I never said I wanted to drive your _precious_. I was only going to jerk the wheel and send us flying off the road. For the purpose of destroying the vehicle, because you'd just pop back up."

"D- right I would."

"You and _cursing!_" I sighed in exasperation. "You don't even try."

"I've got quite the cursabulary," he stated smugly.

Another grin.

"Can you, like, park already?" I eventually asked in a totally non-annoying way. I had endearing charm going for me, promise.

"Do you see a spot?"

A pause. A pointed look at the vast sea of green.

"I'm not parking on their lawn, Gwen."

"Why not?"

"Beeeeeecause _I _need them to _like_ me."

Oh yeah I saw how it was. Taking a page out of my book. Being sing-songy and elongating words and emphasising ones that didn't require emphasising.

I performed a billion times better than Damon Salvatore did.

He didn't have the… _flare_ I had. Duh.

After an eternity (okay, so it was only a minute, but it was a _long_ 60 seconds), we found a spot and Damon had the decency to compel us to the front of the line.

"Always a pleasure," I greeted Carol Lockwood, grin widening as her lips curled in disdain. Maybe she'd been hoping that this was the year I'd choose not to attend. Poor her. Didn't she know by now? I'd always come to push her buttons!

"Hello, Gwyneth," the woman greeted tightly. You see, she wasn't allowed to lose her cool. She had a reputation to uphold and what a disgrace that would be to tarnish her image! She'd never be able to show her face in public again!

I probably looked crazy with all the smiling I was doing today.

Mrs. Lockwood's gaze drank Damon in. Huh-oh! Cougar alert. But not really since Damon was like, 4 times her age. Would that count as paedophilia if they engaged in an affair? Because you could argue that Carol was a child if you lined her age up with Damon's.

No, I decided. Probably not. Just huge age gap. I'm sure Damon was used to that sort of thing. He'd undoubtedly gotten his pick of the youth over the years.

"It's nice to meet you," Carol said.

Oh gag me.

Damon turned up the charm in order to win her favour and make up for the fact that he was here with the likes of little ole me. "Likewise," he said shortly, but it would've been enough to make any regular girl swoon.

"Please, do come in."

"Oooh, Damon. Please come in," I mocked, giggling. "You really do sway even the most faithful of wives."

"Forgive her, Mrs. Lockwood," Damon said, latching firmly onto my arm. "She really has no filter."

I scowled at the vampire as he dragged me away. "What was that for?"

"A little insurance that you don't ruin my chances of getting on her good side."

"Right, right. Founder's Council stuff." If he kept ruining things for me, I was going to decide playing along with his game was too much work and out him to the Mayor.

He tapped me on the nose. "Now you're catching on."

_Ha_. Because I was the one behind the curve. As if.

I dug my short nails into his hand, making him wince.

"Let's get a drink," he insisted. His hold on me was outwardly possessive looking, but I got the message. He was keeping me on a leash, making sure I wasn't going to go anywhere. Aw, he knew me so well- I didn't dance to his tune.

Speaking of dancing…

"Only if we dance, too," I replied, batting my eyelashes.

"No."

"No?"

"I have an agenda."

"But I'm the one that got you here to carry out your 'agenda'."

"So?"

Fine.

I sighed as though he'd disappointed me. "I guess I'll just have to tell the sheriff that you're trying to coerce me into drinking alcohol. I'm a _minor, _Damon!"

Damon snorted. "You think she'd believe you when I'm a charming, flattering specimen of man?"

"Ha." Before she'd seen me with a shovel and being shifty? Yes. Now? Probably. In case… "And I'll tell her you're a vampire. Throw it in for good measure."

Damon glowered at me for a second and then cursed. He knew I was good for my word!

But still, I felt a slight pinprick of displeasure. He wasn't going to challenge me.

"I have two left feet," he said in a last ditch attempt to get out of it.

I appraised him. "You've been around for ages, old man. That's highly improbable."

Much to my amusement, he snapped, "How would you know?"

"Oh, Damon, don't be a whiny teenage girl. I thought you were a _charming,_ _flattering _specimen of man! So be chivalrous, loser."

I looped my arm through his and let him whisk (seriously,_ whisked_ with all the elegance possible) us to the dance floor. When he twirled me around, I knew he was finally loosening up.

"See, I like this guy much better than Mr. Grumpy Pants."

"I like you better when you're not talking."

Well then.

"That wasn't very nice," I replied tartly after he'd spun me again, forcing people to clear the space for us. "I'm a stellar conversationalist."

"You're stellar at babbling," he 'corrected.'

"I'm not babbling now, am I?"

"No, you're arguing and blackmailing."

I automatically opened my mouth to fire back when I caught the teasing glint in his blue eyes. Oh. _Oh. _He was joking! DUH.

"I'm dancing," I said with a grin.

"And you so don't have two left feet," I added as he guided me through some out of place waltz. Show off.

"For only one song," Damon stated firmly.

"Sure," I absently agreed, too focused on keep in tune with the vampire. Left, right… Move feet… Spin… Back to partner… step on Damon's foot to see him flash me an accusatory look… Pretend I hadn't done it on purpose…

"I mean it, Gwen."

"How about if you see an opportunity, you take it and leave me."

"Nope, you have to come."

I perked up. "Yay."

"Could you be any more enthusiastic?" he sarcastically asked.

"I'm bubbling with joy on the inside."

Damon flashed me a genuine smile before morphing back to his scheming look.

* * *

In the evening, Damon insisted that we follow Stefan and Elena as they went upstairs to browse. He was _my_ date, yet he was far more invested in his brother and Elena. Forgive me if I was wrong (which I wasn't), but I was seeing a bit of the green monster. Jealousy!

Made no sense. He technically didn't have anything to be jealous of, because Elena? Not Katherine. Damon didn't know Elena and the one time they'd bonded had lasted for 2 minutes- tops. Was it possible to develop feelings in such a short time?

I wouldn't know.

"You know the plan?" Damon murmured for the umpteenth time as we passed Jenna and Scumfell (for the record, Jenna was a lot nicer than she was years ago).

"Yes," I replied flatly, gaze flitting around me in boredom. This should've been a massacre party. That would up the ante. Like if Damon would let loose. Or, if he had to, flip off his emotions so that we could have some fun. Because at this rate there was no way he'd go for the buffet.

As if at the mere thought, my stomach gurgled, reminding me that in the three bloody hours we'd been here, we hadn't stopped for food and Damon wasn't being courteous and offering me anything. Apart from the one pit stop for grapes, but even I hadn't gotten those, because the vampire had confiscated them as soon as I'd begun to pelt the passer-byers with them.

"I'm hungry," I whined, nearly stomping my foot like a petulant child.

"Then you can drag Stefan to the dining room instead of the dance floor," Damon distractedly said, too busy weaving our way to the stairs to care about my plight.

I glowered at his back.

"You're lucky I'm helping you, jerk."

"Yeah, I feel like the luckiest man alive."

…

"I'm not even going to make a comment on that."

"Gwen, do me a favour-"

"Yes, Damon?"

"Shut up."

"I'm going to tell people you're abusive."

"You do that."

"Ha."

He was so not winning any points on the 'awesome scale'.

But unfortunately for me, I didn't get to further our _enticing_ conversation. Elena's voice was floating through the hall. "… it's the original guest registry. Look at all these familiar names—Sheriff William Forbes, Mayor Benjamin Lockwood. Is that Damon Salvatore?" How cute, she noticed older brother first. "And… Stefan Salvatore?"

Prime time for the magnificent duo (Damon and I, duh) to step out of the shadows. Or around the door.

Shadows sounded a lot better.

"The original Salvatore brothers," Damon explained smoothly, calm where Stefan was antsy. "Our ancestors. Tragic story, actually."

Yeah, a real tear-jerker.

"We don't need to bore them with stories of the past," Stefan retorted, stiff in the way he only got around his brother.

"It's not boring, Stefan," Elena disagreed. "I'd love to hear more about your family."

"It's so fascinating! When you two love birds have the time, you should talk about it more," I said sweetly.

Stefan narrowed his eyes at me.

Hater.

I nearly laughed to myself, but then my stomach gurgled. "Stttteeffffannn! You want to come to the buffet with me? Damon's the worst date ever. I'm starving. He stole my food."

"Only because you were throwing them at other guests," Damon defended.

Oh, make me look bad. That's not cool.

"_Anyway,_" I moved on pointedly, "do you mind, Elena?"

"Oh, uh…"

"I'm not really hungry."

"So you're going to leave me to shrink in hunger? Don't be like Damon!" I whimpered.

"It's up to Stefan," Elena answered simply.

"Oh goodie!" I cheered, tugging the vampire forward. "Come along, good sir."

For whatever reason, Stefan played along like an obedient boy and allowed me to take him down the staircase and to the munching room. "You sure you don't want anything? If none of this is to your... refined tastes, I'll gladly help you procure something."

Stefan smiled tightly.

I changed postures, friendly facade evaporating as suddenly as it had come. "Just trying to be nice."

"I'm sure," he muttered darkly.

Shrugging, I tip-toed around his body, plucking food from the table. I shoved a filled to the brim plate into Stefan's hands. "Since you're here and all," I offered in explanation.

Such a gentleman! Damon would've dropped the plate on the ground to defy me.

I grinned. "I'm liking you more and more by the second!" I squealed joyfully.

Steffy cleared his throat. "Damon told you to get me away from them," he said.

Eeck. Not the most tactful topic change, but it was to the point. Kudos for that.

When he didn't continue, I blinked. "Yes?" I prompted.

"Why?"

"How should I know?" I replied, popping a grape into my mouth. "I'm just the poor, innocent girl he's manipulating into doing his dirty work for him."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

I gasped, placing a hand over my chest in a mock display of hurt. "What would make you say such a thing? I'm a victim!"

At his look, I dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Yeah, so, I might tell you if we worked out a 'sharing is caring' system."

"What?"

I held up a finger, telling him to wait as I finished chewing. "'Sharing is caring'. Knowledge for knowledge. I tell you something, you tell me something. Get it?"

He regarded me carefully. "What do you want to know?" he slowly asked.

I shrugged, leaning towards him like we were conspirators. "Oh, you know, only what you're planning to do when you finally manage to drop Damon with that vervain."

"If I told you that, how do I know you won't tell him?"

"My word," I deadpanned, laughing shortly. "No, you don't. I don't plan to, but that's right now. I might change my mind later."

"Real convincing to get me to tell you."

"It doesn't really matter. Only curious, you know. But then you'll never know the real reason behind Damon's plan!" I whispered. "Though that'd cost you another secret."

Stefan weighed the pros and cons to my offer while I watched. He took so long that I began smacking my lips as I inhaled fruits and breads and desserts to see if it'd annoy him.

It didn't.

Or if it did, he did one amazing job at keeping it under wraps.

"I'm going to lock him in the cellar. Let him desiccate."

I clapped my hands, plate clattering onto the table in my lack of foresight. "Oooh how interesting! Can't bring yourself to kill him, huh?"

"I don't want him dead," Stefan said simply.

"Aw, that's cute Steffy. So brotherly!" And as promised, I answered his first question. "I was just supposed to 'distract' while Damon made Elena paranoid about you."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"Ddaayyyymon is making Eelllennna _paranoid_ about _you_!" I repeated with a grin. "But don't worry, he's done by now, I'm sure. I gave him some pointers." I turned away from the younger Salvatore. "You really should tell Elena more. Avoidance from you… well, she'll believe anything. Like, who is this Katherine woman she keeps hearing about? Or, 'Why won't Stefan tell me?'"

I glanced over my shoulder and laughed.

Stefan's jaw clenched. "Tell me about Damon's master plan."

"Hold on; I need to think of something I want to know." Oh! Idea! "Okay, got it." I paused, listening carefully. Damon and Elena would here in a few seconds at the most. As much as I wanted to know about Steffy's ripper days, I'd have to wait another day. If Damon had heard us talking, he was going to be so very cross with me.

How sad.

I wet my lips. "Ah well, I'm afraid you'll have to figure it out yourself," I said the moment Damon and Elena entered the picture.

"What'd we miss?" Damon asked.

"We were just chatting," Stefan covered, picking up a glass he must've gotten while my back was turned. "Drink, Damon?"

"No thanks, I'll pass."

I snorted.

Elena glanced between the two brothers. "Stefan, do you have a dance in you?"

"Absolutely."

As the sickeningly sweet couple walked out arm in arm, I play gagged. Disgusting.

Damon grabbed my upper arm, forcing me to look at him. "What were you two talking about?"

"This and that. I was messing with him. That's what you wanted me to do, remember?" Geez, could he get any moodier? He wanted me to do something, I was gracious enough to follow the order, and now he was frustrated?

"Not by telling him my plan!"

My laughing response was mocking. "You think I was going to go through with it?"

"I think you'll play the field," he answered carefully, releasing me.

"Damon," I started innocently, "if you don't trust me, you shouldn't have told me/"

"Yeah, too late to take that back."

I rolled my eyes at him. He was a big baby. "I hardly think that would be necessary."

But it probably would've been in his best interests.

Damon groaned. "Why are you so- so difficult!?"

"Because it's so- so fun!" I mimicked.

His hands twitched.

"You're not thinking of killing me, are you? Because I can tell you, I'm not up for that."

"Only of ripping your throat out and then healing you."

"All right. I could go for vampirism."

A mix of amusement and bafflement replaced his scowl. "Nothing phases you, does it?"

I tilted my chin up. "Of course not."

I turned away from Damon to gather more food. I was finding it hard to keep the chat going. It was too boring, too hard. Why couldn't he be less goal obsessed and more 'not a care in the world'? That attitude was the right attitude! Not some pathetic persistence in ruining his brother's relationship and 'rescuing' Katherine.

It'd been, like, a 145 years, too. That's a little repetitive. Wasn't he a little tired of walking to the same tune by now? I didn't see how anyone could last that long with the same objectives. I certainly wouldn't be able to.

What else had he done, I wondered, to pass the time. Murder sprees? Started a band? Slept with women? Slept, drank, killed? Did he ever take the time to lull his victims into a false sense of security and then kill them slowly?

Because if he had, that was, like, cool.

_I want to try that one day_, I thought with resolve.

It was too quiet. Damon was… not here. Huh. How rude of him.

"Your date deserted you?" a familiar voice spoke up. "Bad form."

I twirled on my foot. "Stalker!" I greeted warmly. "How nice of you to think so."

"I have a name, Gwen," he reprimanded good-naturedly.

Yep. Aiden the Stalker. He was wearing all black for his suit. Like that, his skin almost looked as pale as mine. And his hair… like blood. Blood...

"How about Kool-Aid Mop?" I suggested.

"Nnnoot _quite_."

Whoa. Hold up. That sounded way too like me. Like an eerily good echo so unlike Damon's. That was impressive. Round of applause _impressive._

"So where's your date, Aiden?"

He waved a hand in dismissal. "She's around. Maybe inflicting someone else with her shallow talk."

My lips twitched upward. "You're a _terrible _boyfriend."

He shrugged in a 'what can you do' kind of way, black eyes twinkling. "Funny thing—she hasn't left yet."

"Walking a dangerous line, sttallker," I sang, then lowered my voice, scandalised. "Her mom's the _sheriff!_"

He leaned forward. "Exactly."

I went quiet, studying him. I got the feeling I'd met him before that dinner party, but when I tried to recall it, I pulled up a blank. I didn't know what his game was, either, and jeez was that a nuisance. "You here to tell me how we've met before?" I asked.

"That's for you to figure out, Gwennie," he chimed. "Though I heard you hit a road block. A missing page, perhaps?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, flexing my fingers. "Did you take it?" I growled. "I want to see it, Adrian. How'd you know it was there?"

"But I'd rather be the one to tell you," he pouted, ignoring my other questions. "You reading it will create more questions and I could just tell you!"

"Then go ahead. I'm listening," I suggested.

"It's a delicate situation," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

I twisted my lips in distaste. "I'm not the most patient person. Well, all the time, anyway."

"Trust me, I know."

"Because you're a stalker."

"Or because I know you. The question is, do _you_ know _me_?"

Impossible. I would've remembered.

Unless.

No. Couldn't be.

Had to be.

"Were you, like, a family friend or something?" I eagerly guessed. "You could fill in the first 5 years of my life. I heard my parents died _terrible _deaths, but no one could ever identify them. They're just Mr and Mrs. Doe."

Pain flashed through Adrian's eyes.

"A tale for another time."

"What's wrong with now?" I insisted.

"Everything and nothing," he answered, grinning.

There was a clatter behind me and I was momentarily distracted. A second at most. But when I turned back around, Adrian was gone.

I grabbed the thing nearest to me—a misfortunate cup—and threw it at the wall, watching glass fragments sprinkle the ground.

The next person that did that was going to get their neck snapped.

* * *

_**Yayyy! A nice, long chapter :D I hope you guys liked it (or loved it)! Per request, I put in some Damon POV which hopefully sounds like him.. Let me know what you think :) Until next time, readers**_


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